Irresistible Force
by Teesinger
Summary: A Calzona story based on the If/Then episode of season 8. Told in the first person by both characters. I know its been done (very well) but couldn't resist the urge.
1. Chapter 1

"Oof!" A tiny foot got me right in the gut, and the next thing I knew was the unforgiving hardwood floor of Calliope's bedroom. Sigh. Kicked out of bed again. By a two year old.

Well, I thought, lying there in an undignified heap on the floor, they _are_ their mother's children—and she was a bed hog of the worst order. Though usually, her spread-eagling habits included one long limb being reserved for wrapping around one A. Robbins. But not tonight. As I peeped over the edge of the mattress, I was rewarded with the sight of Calliope and her three children—yes, all three—sprawled all over the bed, the twins sleeping crosswise in the space usually occupied by me. I had last night's epic thunderstorm to thank for my present uncomfortable position. It had caused panic and crying, with the end result that Allegra and her brothers Alex and Aidan had wormed their way into the space between me and Calliope. It's a big bed, but it's not THAT big.

I looked at the time—almost 5 a.m. Resigned, I got up off the floor and padded out of the room in my bare feet. Allegra had graduated onto a bigger bed, and it would do just fine for me to catch a couple more winks of sleep. The Arizona Robbins of a few months ago would not have found herself in this situation, I thought to myself. She would have been out that door in the blink of an eye, with not one backward look. As I snuggled down with Dino, Allegra's little red stuffed dog with the floppy ears, I found myself smiling foolishly. I, Arizona Robbins, player extraordinaire and hardcore surgeon, was smiling like an idiot at the thought of three little brats who had kicked me out of my hot, HOT girlfriend's bed. And then it hit me! As 5 a.m blinding revelations go, this was a doozy. I had fallen, wholly, irrevocably and completely in love. And while I had figured this out a while ago about Calliope (though I was still keeping that to myself) I had not bargained for falling hook, line and sinker for her kids as well. I was so whipped.

I awoke because there was something on my face. Brushing it off, I hugged Dino a little tighter, eyes still firmly shut. Yet there is was again, brushing my cheek. Swatting it away angrily, I wondered why there were flies buzzing around Allegra's room. A third time something brushed my cheek, a little more firmly. It really didn't feel like a fly. And there was a delicious aroma of coffee invading my nostrils. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. Sitting by me on the bed, looking down at me, with one hand softly cupping my cheek, and what I can only describe as a _tender_ look in her eyes, was Calliope.

"Hey," she said softly, still stroking my cheek with her thumb, " I'm sorry about last night…"

"Calliope," I croaked out, bringing my hand up to find hers, "It's ok … they were terrified."

"I'll make it up to you," she said, leaning closer, "in soooo many ways."

"Hmmm…. I might have to think about that," I said, my skin goose-pimpling as she breathed out over my ear. "What kind of reparation are we talking about?"

"The kind that's going to make you forget your name," she whispered, and the sneaky thing left me completely incoherent by running her tongue along the shell of my ear and nipping my ear lobe.

" If you don't stop doing that, we're going to end up doing some VERY bad things in your daughter's bed," I said, turning my face so that her lips hovered over mine, yet moving away when she tried to kiss me.

She leaned back, pouting.

"Morning breath," I explained.

"Oh? Well think of it like this… my mouth is extremely familiar with your anatomy, some parts of which don't have the benefit of morning toothpaste—and I really haven't heard you complain before," she said, smiling wickedly, "so shut up and let me kiss you."

"I guess when you put it like that," I said, leaning up towards her, "I really don't have a good comeback."

She kisses me like it's the first time she's ever kissed me. I think the sweetness will just kill me. Honestly, this woman is such a contradiction. Badass hard-nosed cardio surgeon oozing confidence without, and absolute softie within. As I wind my arms about her neck I have the strongest urge to never let go. Woah, Robbins. Heavy thoughts for so early in the morning.

"I brought you coffee" she murmurs, as we break apart, looking deep into my eyes as if she were making a declaration of love.

Could she be any more perfect? Looking at her, I feel my chest tighten as if she had reached in, grabbed my heart, and squeezed.

" God, I love you…" The words are out of my mouth before I can filter them. Word vomit! That was so not a planned statement for this morning. I had planned to say this with violins playing romantic music in the background, and rose petals scattered everywhere. Not in a child's bedroom, sporting really bad bed head and tangled in Little Mermaid sheets. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I'm goggling at her and gulping like a landed fish…

Yet the words are out now.

She looks at me, head slightly tilted, an unreadable expression on her face. "You mean that?"

"I do." I can't help it. "I do, Calliope." My voice is a little shaky and I feel like my heart might just break into a million little pieces because she's still looking at me strangely. This is a first for me, Arizona Robbins, onetime serial heart breaker.

It feels like an eternity goes by, and then her million-watt smile lights up the room. "I love you too," she says, hauling me up out of bed. "Now get out of my daughter's bed and join me in the shower so that I can show you how much!"

_**Six months earlier**_

I watched her wheeling her twin stroller out, carrying her daughter on her hip. We had just saved a little boy's life. I had told her she was amazing, and held her hand just a little too long, feeling an undeniable tug of attraction as we made vague plans to celebrate…

Children. THREE children, Arizona, I told myself. And a HUSBAND. And obviously STRAIGHT. DO NOT go there. Yet I'm still staring at her retreating form, and just before she rounds the corner, she turns around and sends that ridiculously charming smile my way. I'm a goner. So. Totally. Gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: None of the characters of Grey's Anatomy belong to me. They are the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. **

Being a complete newbie, I forgot to say this in the previous chapter.

CALLIE

**(The morning after the events in If/Then)**

This morning was a page out of whichever ring of Dante's Inferno is the worst.

Owen is a good guy. I mean it. He's honourable, upright, loves his children… but this morning, I wanted nothing more than to throw things at him. Large, heavy objects aimed at places that would hurt.

I just wanted to see if his hand was ok, and he was being an ass about it.

"Just let me look at it! It's your hand, Owen! Something you're going to need!" I said, attempting to sound reasonable, and fuming inside.

"I told you, its fine. It's nothing. Yang took care of it. Now can you drop it?" His voice rose with each statement.

"Oh, so you can let Yang touch you, but not me? How am I supposed to take that?" I was mad now, and spoiling for a fight.

"Yang was **there**. That's all, Callie. Can we let it go?"

"No we can't. Not until you tell me you're going to get help. I _know_ how you got hurt Owen…Do you think I'm that oblivious? It was all over the hospital yesterday!" I'd really forgotten my indoor voice now, and I came around the table, reaching for his hand. My action seemed to set off a series of events that suddenly spiraled out of control. Owen, who had been seated at the table, jumped to his feet and swept his arm out of my reach with a furious expletive, knocking over Allegra's bowl of cereal. I watched, as if seeing in slow motion, Allegra run in to the pantry behind Owen, ready to throw herself at him in her usual exuberant morning greeting. The cereal scattered everywhere, and the bowl flew off the table, hitting Allegra square on the forehead. Unable to even cry out a warning, I watched as she slipped on the spilled milk and went down with a thump.

Allegra's howl of pain seemed to snap me out of my stupor. Pushing Owen—who still seemed dazed—out of the way, I knelt beside my daughter. Her cereal bowl was made of plastic, and wouldn't do much more than give her a nasty bruise on her forehead. As luck would have it, she'd fallen on her bottom, feet stretched out, and was more shaken up and scared than seriously injured. As I picked her up and carried her upstairs, still bawling, I chanced a look at Owen. He was standing stock still, gazing down at the spot where Allegra fell, and the mess of milk and cereal on the floor.

"Will you clean that up?" I said, surprised at how even my voice came out. "I'm going to get the kids ready for daycare."

**ARIZONA**

Damsels in distress have never really been my thing. I'm far more likely to cause their distress than rescue them, if you know what I mean. Yet, the scene I witnessed in the hospital parking lot that morning had me feeling strangely eager to act the part of knight in shining armor.

The first thing I noticed as I got out of my car was the cacophony of sound coming from the SUV parked a few cars over. There were children crying, a musical toy playing "It's a Small World After All" with the slightly warped sound that these toys inevitably get when their batteries are running down, a phone ringing, and a woman's voice pleading and scolding by turns.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been my cue to turn tail and sneak into the hospital with maximum speed and minimum visibility. Yet just before I turned to flee this scene of domestic upheaval, I heard the woman's voice again, and recognized it as belonging to someone who featured largely in my dreams last night. Curiosity got the better of me. Walking around my car, I approached the noisy SUV rather apprehensively. What I saw might have made me laugh if not for the look on Dr. Torres' face. She was wrangling two screaming blonde boys into a stroller and trying to distract them with the Disney-tune playing toy, while pleading with her daughter-who was still strapped in her car-seat-to stop crying, and trying to see who was calling on her phone. Eventually, she just threw the phone into the front seat of her car, closed the door and leaned her forehead on the window. The corners of her beautiful mouth turned down ominously, and I knew that tears were very near the surface.

This is the part where you turn and run, I told myself. Poised for flight, I chanced one more look. She was pressing one shaking hand to her mouth in an effort to control herself. To hell with it, I thought, forgetting yesterday's resolve to stay away from the straight married lady with three kids. She needed help.

She didn't even hear me approach. "It's a Small World After All" was stuck on repeat, and it was obnoxiously loud. Not to mention the fact that the three bawling children were showing no signs of letting up.

"Dr. Torres?" I said, tentatively touching her shoulder. "Callie? Are you OK?"

She didn't turn around, but she brushed her hand across her eyes quickly and took a deep breath.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine," she finally said, turning slowly and facing me. She made a helpless gesture at the kids. "they decided to have a collective tantrum today." She looked forlorn. Reduced to tears by her brood of tiny humans. I fought the urge to reach up and wipe my thumb over her cheeks, which still looked suspiciously wet.

"My daughter had a little accident this morning…and the twins woke up crying because they heard _her_ crying, and it's just been one long sob-fest all morning."

"Ok, well, why don't you see what you can do with the twins and I'll have a little chat with …um?"

"Allegra" her mother supplied, taking my suggestion and stooping over the twins' stroller. "Hey Alex …hey buddy…" I heard her placating the boys as I made my way to the back seat of the SUV, where Allegra sat, sobbing and exhausted. There was an angry looking bruise on her forehead.

"Hi Allegra" I said brightly. As an opening gambit, it was not very successful.

"I want my mommy!" she wailed in response.

"I know sweetie. Your mommy is just checking on your brothers…would you like to get out of the car and help her?"

"No!"

Right. Time to bring out the big guns. Dimples to the fore! Smiling my super-magic smile and breaking out the dimples, I fished in my handbag for Mr. Bear.

"Hey Allegra, look, someone's here to see you!"

She took no notice of me. Oh, this one was a hard card.

"Don't you want to see who it is? He's come especially for you!"

"Wh—who?"

"Mr. Bear—see? And do you know what else he's got for you?"

Hiccup. "Wh-what?"

Think fast Arizona. What else do you have in your bag that could possibly interest a four-year-old? Money, purse, makeup, tampons… wait… we have a winner! I produced a silver headband with a flourish.

"Something really pretty for your hair! Can I put it on you?"

"Ok," she grudgingly allows me to place the band on her head as if she were conferring a great honor on me.

"Wow, you look just like a princess!" What is it going to take to get a smile out of her?

"Like you?" Oh, that was unexpected! And rather sweet.

"Oh, MUCH nicer than me… just like your mommy…and she is reeeaally pretty," I say. That gets a wide smile out of the little girl, and she holds out her hands to me, allowing me to take her out of the car seat.

"Wow, Robbins. You have some skills." The world around me had gone quite quiet, and I realized then that Callie must have calmed the twins down long before I had won Allegra over. The Disney-tune toy was blessedly silent.

"I speak as I find," I said, shrugging and trying to look nonchalant. That wide beautiful grin flashes across her face, and I think I'm a little bit dazzled. We turn and walk towards the hospital, Callie wheeling the stroller and Allegra on my hip.

"What's your name?" asks the princess in my arms, who shows no sign of wanting to go back to her mother."I'm Arizona," I reply, and laugh as she wrinkles up her nose and says "Awizona?...that's a funny name!"

"Allegra!" her mother interrupts before I can reply. "I'm sorry Arizona, my daughter is nothing if not outspoken."

"Oh, I'm used to it. And I think we have to part ways now." We had arrived at the elevator, and I handed princess Allegra back to her mother.

"Thank you Arizona. I think you saved me from a meltdown this morning. I'm so sorry you had to witness that." She looks mortified and embarrassed again, as she remembers the scene from the parking lot.

"It's fine Calliope. Don't worry about it… Just have drinks with me sometime this week," I blurt as the elevator door start to close.

I get another dazzling smile."I'd love to" She says, and winks at me as the doors close.

Dear God. I think I'm going blind.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you, everyone who read and left reviews. I appreciate it!

CALLIE

Smooth, Callie. Stellar performance. _Thunderous_ applause. I wait until the elevator doors close and smack my palm to my head. I just winked at Arizona. _Winked_. Flirtatiously! What was I thinking? I guess the answer to that is I was **not** thinking! I've lost my mind. Seriously lost it, because I become like a babbling fool when she's around. I'm not an inarticulate person—quite the contrary actually. Yet yesterday she held my hand and told me I was amazing, and all I could do was stutter out a barely grammatical sentence about needing to celebrate sometime, and then get lost in her beautiful blue eyes. She has gorgeous blue eyes…and they twinkle (yes, I know, cliché much?) like some character out of a children's story. Why have I never noticed before? And when she smiles….Oh, good lord, I'm not doing this. Pull yourself together, Torres! Now is not the time to develop a girl crush. You are a grown woman with a family, not some kid in high school! Yet…just a couple of days ago, I only thought of her as the opinionated know-it-all I sometimes had to work with, and now suddenly she's my hero. I could have fallen at her feet and kissed her insufferable little toes after the small miracle she worked in the parking lot this morning.

I have to stop analyzing my recent lapse in judgment because the elevator dings, and I exit with the kids, heading towards the daycare center. Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice Allegra trying to get my attention until she tugs on my hair.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Is daddy angry with me?" I knew I'd have to tackle this question sooner rather than later. I put her down and kneel by her and the twins in the corridor just outside the daycare.

"No, Allegra, daddy is not angry with you. His hand was hurting him, and he was not feeling good, okay baby? Daddy loves you and your brothers so, so much. He didn't mean to knock your breakfast off the table. It was an accident—He's so sorry you got hurt. He told you so, didn't he?"

"Yes mommy." Her bottom lip trembles again as she remembers the morning's drama. "Is he angry with you?"

"No, baby, Daddy is not angry with any of us. Sometimes he doesn't feel well, and it makes him grumpy." How does one explain PTSD to a four year old? "Shall we go inside now? Your friends are all waiting to see you."

"Azziona too? She's my new friend."

"No sweetie. Arizona is a doctor like mommy and daddy—she's busy making children feel better."

"Like she made me feel better? Will she come and see me, mommy?" Robbins has made quite the impression, I can see.

"I can't promise, baby," I say as I finally get my children through the door of the daycare center. I hug each one before handing them over—the twins barely tolerating the cuddle and squirming out of my embrace. Once out of the stroller's restraints, they don't have a second to spare for me. Allegra turns and blows me an airy kiss before trotting away, and I leave the daycare wondering how on earth I could ever leave my kids alone with their father again. Today's accident could so easily have ended differently.

**Later the same day**

"Arizona, I mean Dr Robbins, hangs out with the Ortho chick a lot, huh?" I say and Addison looks at me with a curve in her perfect eyebrow.

"Well, that's one way of putting it," she says meaningfully, looking towards the table where Arizona sat with the attractive red-headed surgeon, laughing at something they both found amusing.

"Alright… tell me now. What am I not getting?" She was capable of dropping veiled hints for hours before a big reveal, and I was just not in the mood to play along.

"Dr. Robbins is gay, Callie. Everyone knows that, and she doesn't make a secret of it."

"So Dr Michaels is what….her girlfriend?"

"I don't know. I guess friends _might_ emerge from an on-call room looking all disheveled and guilty as hell, but they'd have to be friends with benefits then, don't you think? But as far as I know, Robbins doesn't tie herself down. Why the sudden interest?"

"Oh, no interest really. We have a patient—you know the artificial lung kid?—and I found that she's really very nice."

"She _is_ very nice. I've worked with her quite closely, and she's amazingly talented. If you weren't so caught up in your own stuff—don't bother Callie, I know you're dealing with "stuff" however much you may deny it—you would have time to notice some other things. And remember your friends too—who are there for you, by the way, even if they may resemble the Hindenburg and need to pee every five seconds!" she heaved herself up as she spoke. "Speaking of which, I need to pee. I'll see you around."

Addison is too damn astute for her own good. But she's a good friend, and I'm grateful for her support.

"Thank you Addie," I said reaching out for her hand as she went by. "You're a star."

"Freaking right I am. A mighty ball of gas" she quips as she squeezes my hand and waddles off.

I'm still smiling to myself when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Mind if I sit with you, Calliope?"

I don't need to look up to know who it is. No one in the hospital calls me Calliope. When she used my full name this morning, I didn't correct her, because for the first time in my life, I actually liked the way it sounded. She said "Calliope" she way others would use a nickname or endearment. I found it alarmingly attractive.

I looked up to find Arizona twinkling down at me. There was no sign of the red-headed Ortho chick anywhere.

"Not at all… please do," I said pushing out a chair for her. "My hero," I added with a smile as she sat down. She got a little pink in the face, but replied without skipping a beat,

"Well, My Lady, I couldn't be so unchivalrous as to leave you to deal with the bad baby dragons all by yourself, could I?"

"Well, you certainly have got ONE of those dragons under your spell," I said. "Allegra is utterly smitten with you."

"She's extremely cute. Good genes," she says, looking down at her salad innocently, and then glancing at me from under her lashes.

"Why thank you Arizona, I'll take that as a compliment," I said, unable to stop the laughter that bubbled up in response to her antics.

"I was referring to Owen, you know," she says seriously, and then, as if on cue, we both laugh uproariously at the ridiculousness of that statement. We get a few curious stares from the residents and attendings who are still eating, but don't really care that we're causing some comment. It feels really good to laugh after the emotional maelstrom of this morning.

"Oh, that's funny. You're a funny girl," I say, "how come we've never really talked before?"

"Oh, I don't know… maybe the fact that you are all "I'm a super-awesome cardio-god" and don't see us lesser mortals?" She's joking again, but this little barb hits home.

"Really? You think I'm stuck-up?" My voice comes out sounding rather squashed.

"No! Calliope, I was just kidding…I only meant that sometimes you can be a little stand-offish, you know, when you don't know somebody, and you really didn't know me from Adam, so there was no need…" she loses herself in a long ramble, gesticulating in agitation as she tries to explain herself. I'm completely disarmed by this sudden display of awkwardness, and surprise even myself by catching one of her hands in mid-gesture. I'm clearly not processing today.

"Relax! I'm not that fragile! " I tell her, laughing a little. "I can be a little distant, I suppose," I go on, placing her hand palm down on the table and covering it with my own.

She stops speaking abruptly, and looks at me, mouth half open. She makes no attempt to reclaim her hand. I lean a bit closer to her."Close your mouth Dr Robbins," I hear my most sultry voice coming out of my mouth. What is WRONG with me?

She closes her mouth, tilts her head slightly and gives me an odd little squint, as if she's weighing pros and cons, or deciding whether to continue with this little game. Then she leans even closer to me and says very softly, "you may want to change your mind about that someday." She must have seen the look of panic on my face, because she laughs delightedly at my confusion and says,

"You're messing with the master of innuendo, Callie."

Oh, she's a sly one. Before I can retaliate, her pager goes off.

"911—I've got to run."

I'm conscious of a feeling of disappointment. "Go on then" I say wondering why she's not moving.

"Um, can I have this back?" she says, wiggling her fingers, which are still resting under my hand.

My face feels like it's on fire, and I snatch my hand away completely embarrassed.

"Don't get me wrong—I could hold your hand all day—but the tiny humans are calling," she says, still teasing. "Do you want to go for a drink tomorrow? Joes?"

"y-yeah" I manage to sputter.

"Super!" she throws over her shoulder as she sprints out of the cafeteria.


	4. Chapter 4

**ARIZONA**

**Three days later**

I haven't seen Calliope in three days. I just walked past her office for the third time today, and there's no sign of her. I've looked for her all over the hospital, and gone past the Cardio wing a few too many times for the nurses not to notice. Yes, I know I'm not being very subtle. She seemed fine when we had lunch together on Tuesday. She even flirted with me a little. Trust me, I know when a woman is sending me signals, and though she may not know it herself, I can sense a definite Sapphic vibe resonating beneath Calliope's perfectly conventional and beautifully polished exterior.

I'm afraid I must have scared her off. What I can't figure out is why I'm pursuing her anyway, when I have rules about things like this. I have to keep reminding myself that she's married, and that I'm playing with fire. Why am I forgetting my rule about staying away from the taken people? Especially the straight (well, questionably straight) taken people—with children! You would think that _that_ fact alone would send me running for the hills. And why _now_? I've worked with her before, seen her around the hospital for months, and been perfectly able to control myself. Sure, I thought she was attractive—who wouldn't—but nothing beyond that. Then I hugged her a few days ago in Riley's hospital room, and since then, a searchlight has been flipped on in my brain, and it can focus on nothing else but Calliope Torres.

So yeah. I've scared her off. She's obviously been avoiding me. I asked her to have a drink with me at Joe's, and since lunch on Tuesday I've not seen hide nor hair of her. Maybe it's for the best. A can of worms best left unopened. Her name's been off the surgical board too, until this afternoon. Today, I seriously contemplated asking Addison Shepherd whether she knew where Calliope was, but then thought the better of it. Rumor has it the Shepherds are splitting up, and that Mark Sloan is actually the father of Addison's baby. I suppose that's enough drama for one very pregnant lady to deal with.

I head towards the Attendings' locker room, because I need to shower and change out of my scrubs. Its been a long week, and half of it I've spent moping around like a kid deprived of candy. I'm supposed to meet Laura Michaels at Joe's this evening, though I really can't muster up any enthusiasm for it. Thinking of Laura, I feel conflicted. We've had a very loose relationship—more of an "arrangement" between us that was mutually beneficial and wholly physical. Now the more I think of it, the more I want to tell Laura that we should just remain friends and forget the occasional "benefits" of our relationship. Laura's fun, and witty and good company, but of late I've been unable to engage, even physically, with her. Not far to look for the cause of that.

I walk into the attendings' locker room and pause on the threshold. There on one of the chairs, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, is Calliope. She's still in scrubs, which are liberally streaked with blood. She's sitting quite still, the palm of one hand covering her eyes. Right ...time for me to go. I'm not going to play the knight errant again. That's one sure-fire way of getting my heart stomped on. Calliope's taken great pains to stay away from me, so I'm just going to quietly go away now. I'm about to turn and leave, when she looks up and sees me.

She looks completely frazzled. Her face is drawn, her eyes are filled with barely-held-back tears and she looks so tired and sad that I find myself closing the door and walking towards her, rather than safely away from her.

"Callie? What's wrong?" I squat in front of her, pulling her hands down gently, away from her face. The moment I speak, the tears that were barely contained spill down her cheeks.

"Calliope, please don't ..." I reach up and wipe the tears off with my thumbs, and look around for a box of tissues, because they show no signs of stopping. I hate to see people cry.

" I'm sorry …" she begins, but her voice is totally suspended by tears. There are no tissues anywhere close, so I leave her for a moment, go in to one of the bathrooms and grab a toilet roll. I sit next to her on the arm of the chair and put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her gently backwards and slightly sideways in to me. She doesn't resist, leaning her head on my thigh, her body wracked with silent sobs.

I sit there for a good while, holding her as she fights to be quiet about her grief. Even when she's falling apart, she cannot let herself go. I keep one hand on her back, rubbing lightly up and down, and with the other, take off her scrub-cap. The locker-room is empty now, but it's never still for very long, and I wonder when someone is going to walk in. The thought is barely formed in my head when the door flies open and Dr. Richard Webber stands in the doorway. He looks at me in surprise, and is about to ask what's going on when I shake my head, and nod at the door, clearly telling him to shove off. Thank goodness he's a reasonable and understanding man, because he nods and quietly backs out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Calliope has heard the door open, however, because she raises her head off my leg, grabs the toilet roll and wipes her cheeks and nose before she leans on me again. My scrub pants are covered with her tears and probably some snot as well, but I'm surprisingly ok with that. She brings the wad of tissues to her face once more, and mutters something I can't hear into it.

"What did you say?"

She gives a watery huff, discarding the tissues. "I said, you must think all I do is cry."

"I don't think that at all. You don't have to tell me Callie, but I'm here if you want to talk about it."

She finally lifts her face and turns to me. I pull off more tissues and swipe them across her nose.

"Thank you," she says, taking them from my hand. She pauses for a moment. "I lost a patient today."

Well, that might explain the tears, but she's dealt with this kind of loss many times before. As doctors it's something we're trained to do. Having said that, there have been many occasions when I have snuck away somewhere private to cry my eyes out over a similar loss.

"I'm so sorry… I understand how hard that can be. What happened?"

"MVC. Traumatic aortic rupture. You know how those can be unless you spot it right away. It was too late—he bled out on the table."

"Calliope, I'm sure you did everything you could to save him. It's not your fault…" I take her hand and lace my fingers through hers.

"I know, I know. I had to tell his wife and daughter afterwards. The look on that woman's face … "

I feel helpless to comfort her. I know how it feels when you are responsible for the lives of people loved by others.

"Shall I call Owen? I can get him paged. He can take you home… You should go home, Callie."

"Owen moved out," she says baldly. "He said he couldn't trust himself around our kids anymore. "

There's a long pause between us while I digest this news. Although, I can't say I'm surprised about the last part of her statement. Owen's been a ticking time-bomb since he came back from Iraq, and only Callie's been oblivious to that. Or pretended to be, I'm not sure which. No wonder she's been missing—and no wonder she's feeling overwhelmed. Losing a patient today must have been the last thing she could take.

"Callie," I say gently, untangling my hand from hers and moving a wet tendril of hair away from her face, "It's an open secret that Owen has PTSD. I think maybe he's doing the right thing. He needs therapy, and time."

"I know," she says sadly. There's another heavy pause. She doesn't seem to want to move.

"Calliope?"

"yeah"

"Do you want to take a shower?" Oh God. That came out so wrong. "I .. I mean, you've still got blood on your scrubs, and .. I mean...uh, that's all I meant, really." I am mortified.

She looks at me for a moment and then she chuckles. At least one of us is amused. "You telling me I smell? Or …?"

"Definitely not "Or" anything, Calliope. And no, you're not smelly. Maybe a little snotty," I say uncharitably.

"And here I was, thinking you were such a Galahad," she says smiling once again, and looking for the tissues. I'm relieved to see her recovering her poise. "Am I really snotty?"

"Nah," I look down at her and touch her face where tear tracks are still visible. "You look nice even when you're covered in blood and tears and… other stuff."

I think she just blushed a bit under her tan.

"You're too kind" she murmurs ironically. For a moment we sit there, looking at each other, my hand still on her face. It's all I can do not to lean forward and kiss her.

Our little moment is broken when the door opens again and Addison's very pregnant form appears. She stops for a stunned moment at the door, and then, clearing her throat loudly, steps into the room.

I drop my hand from Calliope's face as if it was a burning coal and try to stand up, but she keeps a hand on my leg—the one she'd been crying all over—and squeezes, as if to say "Chill." She calmly turns to face Addison, who takes one look at her friend's tear-stained face and comes over.

"Callie. What happened? Are the kids Ok?" clearly, she's in the loop with what's been going on in Calliope's life.

"Yes, they're fine Addie. Owen has them this evening and tomorrow—they're at his mother's place. You know he agreed to only supervised visits. Arizona just found me having a bit of a breakdown …"

Addison looks at me, and back at Callie, eyebrows reaching for her hairline. She's obviously surprised that Callie would speak about her personal issues before me.

"It's fine -I've told Arizona. I thought that after I cried all over her, she needed an explanation."

Addison's eyebrows are almost as expressive as Callie's. They show no sign of coming down from her hairline, but she looks at me with a little more comprehension. I'm feeling decidedly awkward now, and make a move to stand up once more. This time, she doesn't stop me.

"Uh, I guess I'll be going now…. Will you be ok, Calliope?"

"_Calliope_?" says Addison, looking at Callie incredulously. "Since when …."

"Shut up, Addie," Callie interrupts. "I'll be fine Arizona. I'm sorry you keep having to come to my rescue." Addison's face is now a study in curiosity. "I'm just going to shower and head home." She stands up and comes up to me, closer than was really necessary. "Thank you," she says softly, reaching out to hold my arm, "that's twice you've put me in your debt."

"Anyone would have done as much, Calliope." I hear a choking sound coming from Addison, but when I look at her, she seems to be really interested in the floor—or what she can see of it beyond her tummy.

As I turn and head towards the showers, I remember why I had come into the locker room in the first place. I needed to change before meeting Laura at Joe's. I was going to be very, very late.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you, everyone who left reviews, for your encouraging comments.

I'm sorry if this fic is a bit fluffy, but these characters have had so much drama lately, and I don't want to add to it.

The rating will probably change in the near future.

**CALLIE**

**Monday morning**

Finally, some space and time of peace and quiet. My office has never seemed so calm and inviting. This morning has been trying, to say the least. My children seem to have gone savage on me, and have taken Owen's absence as leave to do whatever they please. I've always played the good cop with our children, and now seeing me in the role of disciplinarian is something they cannot wrap their little minds around. This morning there was a nasty little incident with scrambled eggs—Allegra refused to eat hers and "accidentally" overturned her breakfast in Aidan's lap—and I was cleaning egg off the children, their clothes and the pantry for quite a while before I could leave for the hospital. Tempers were running high on all sides. By the time I got them to daycare, Allegra had obviously repented, and there was a storm of crying and clinging before she would let go. My patience is wearing wafer thin, but I'm trying to hold it together because they are obviously so confused, and missing their father.

I sit behind my desk, point the remote at the ipod sitting in its dock, and choose a classical playlist that never fails to calm me. As the strains of Faure's _Pavane_ fill the room, I sit back in my chair, close my eyes and try to forget everything else but the music. It's magical stuff, music.

Not two minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Sigh. Why did I think I'd get five minutes to relax? I bring the volume down and tell whoever it is to come in.

A blonde head appears around the door, followed by the rest of Arizona. Her hair is in braids around her head, which means she must have been in surgery, and she's holding a half a jelly doughnut in one hand. She's smiling brightly, dimples on display, and looking extremely chipper. I, on the other hand, feel like Wile E. Coyote after the roadrunner has blown him up and run him off the edge of a cliff. A few times.

"Calliope," she chirps, coming in to the room, "Good morning!" Seeing the look on my face, her smile falters a bit. "Oh . . . is it not a good morning?" She comes forward anyway, and walks around my desk so that she's on the same side of it as I am. Leaning against it, she takes another bite of her donut, and studies my face.

"I wanted to thank you for the donuts—how did you know I _love_ them?" she says indistinctly, through a mouthful of donut.

"Good morning Arizona, and don't talk with your mouth full," I say sternly, using the same tone that I would to reprimand Allegra. The next moment, my cheeks are being squished firmly in her free hand, and squeezed forward so that my mouth goes all fishy. Does she have _no_ boundaries?

"What's the matter, grumpy gills?" she does such a perfect imitation of Dory in _Finding Nemo_ that I burst out laughing. The woman is irrepressible.

"That's better!" she grins, "You have such a beautiful smile Calliope. I hate to see you all frowny. Donut?" She offers me a bite.

"And you are very smooth, Arizona. To answer your question, I bribed one of your nurses into telling me what you like. And thank you, but no donuts for me. Carbs go straight to my ass." I can tell by the glint in her eye that she's coming up with a smart comment about my ass, but she thinks the better of it when I raise my eyebrow at her, as if to say 'don't even _try_'.

"Well, they're very welcome. I just got out of a five-hour surgery, and I haven't been home since yesterday—I _needed_ your donuts!"

"I wanted to thank you for Friday night—I feel like such an idiot! And also to apologize for not contacting you—I know we made plans to meet at Joe's, but then I went home on Tuesday to find Owen leaving, and I …."

"You don't have to explain. Or apologize-I'm glad I could help. I can't imagine how hard all this must be for you. Are your kids doing ok?"

"We had an incident this morning … words were exchanged, eggs were thrown..." I tell her about this morning's fracas, and we end up laughing about my children's efforts to paint my pantry with egg.

There's a small pause in our conversation. Arizona, perched on my desk, looks at the pictures I keep there of my family, and hums along to the music playing softly in the background.

"You know this piece?" I say with a strong inflection of surprise. She doesn't seem the type who'd go for classical music.

"Yeah, I've played it too. I used to play the flute."

"Really? You played in an orchestra?"

"Well, youth orchestra. And sporadically, because my family moved around so much. Then I went to Med school… and I haven't touched the flute in years. You?"

"I used to sing. I was classically trained from the time I was ten years old—I even got into Juilliard… but I had to make a choice, and I chose medicine."

"Oh you poor talented girl. What a choice to have to make! But you got into Juilliard? You must be crazy good!"

"Not anymore. But I still love to listen—it's the only way I can relax sometimes." As I look at Arizona finishing the last bite of her jelly donut and licking the powdered sugar off the tips of her fingers, I have the beginnings of an idea. Turning it over in my head, I automatically reach for the hand sanitizer in my desk drawer, take her hand, squirt some sanitizer on it, and clean it off with a tissue.

"Wow, you're really in mom mode today, aren't you?" Arizona is sitting there on my desk, looking at me as if I've grown two heads.

"What? … Oh, sorry! It's just reflex with me now. I have these little accessories everywhere."

"Good to know!"

I'm just going to go ahead and ask her. "Um, Arizona? would you..uh, like to come with me to the Seattle Symphony Orchestra concert on Saturday? I have two tickets, and I wasn't going because Owen hates it, but I'd really love to go because they're playing Rachmaninov, so, um… would you like to come?" I get this all out very fast, and I'm a bit breathless when I finish. I'm afraid she's going to say no.

"I'd love to, Calliope! That sounds brilliant." She beams at me, and I think she really means it.

"Great!" I can't keep the grin off my face. This morning just brightened up a whole lot more.

"I've got to go now," she hops off my desk. "Thank you for the sugar-hit. And the um, unsolicited hand sanitizing!" she says as she walks to the door. Then she turns around once more. "Will you have dinner with me afterwards?"

"Yes."

"Awesome. See you later Calliope!" and she's out the door before I can respond.

_**Friday**_

"I hope you know what you're doing." Addison's tone is surprisingly dour, and she's picking at her food moodily.

"What are you talking about, Addie?"

"I'm talking about Dr. Sunshine and Rainbows, and the fact that you're spending every spare moment with her. You've had lunch with her every day this week so far. How come she's not here right now?"

"She had a tiny human crisis. I like her, Addison. She's funny, and kind, and I don't remember all the time what a mess my life is when I'm with her."

"Exactly, Callie. Things are messy. Should you be getting your life any messier? She obviously likes you. Do you even like her the same way? And she has a reputation, Callie!" Addison seems genuinely worried.

If I'm honest with myself, I'd have to admit that I _do_ like Arizona. As in _Like_ her, like her, with a feeling that isn't merely friendly. I've thought about it for a while—why I'm attracted to this woman. To _**a**_ woman. And no, it hasn't sparked some existential crisis in my soul. I've had girl crushes before—especially in high school. I had the biggest crush on my singing coach for a while, though I never acted on it. I chose the more traditional route and dated men, and enjoyed it as well, but there's always been a little part of me that has wondered about my attraction to the female form. And now, that attraction is just screaming to be acknowledged.

So yeah, I understand that sexuality can be fluid. What does give me pause is the fact that I'm very married, and also the fact that Arizona does seem to have a bit of a reputation as a heartbreaker. Since Addison mentioned it last week, I've done some subtle listening on the grapevine. What if I'm just another casual fling, like Dr. Michaels—who by the way, has been avoiding Arizona like the plague lately, to my well-concealed satisfaction.

And then there's Owen. The poor guy is not to blame for this whole situation. I was angry with him for not telling me about his continued "episodes," but really, that's not the cause of why we're separated today. And maybe I didn't _want_ to know, deep down. I'll always love Owen—he's such an honest, caring person, and he's the father of my children. But I've had to admit to myself that I haven't been _in_ love with him since probably before the twins were born. I don't think he feels the same as he used to about me either. _There's_ an awkward conversation to be had, for sure.

So yes, my situation is complicated, and into this mix I've added a blonde haired, blue eyed, dimpled bombshell that I can't stop thinking about.

"Hellooooo! Earth to Callie!" Addison waves a hand in my face. "Where did you go just now? Did you even hear a word I've been saying?"

"Sorry Addie. I was thinking about what you said."

"Aaand?"

"I like her. Really _like_ her. As in, I'm _attracted_ to her. Happy now? Please don't go on about it, Addison."

"So you're going gay for her? Do you even know what to do?"

"Oh my god, Addison, please shut up! How did your mind jump straight to sex? I like her. That's all for now, I'm not going to analyze it to death. And I don't like labels. And don't even try to judge, miss-carrying-Mark Sloan's-baby!

"Look at you, all defensive. All right then, I'll back off—but please, be careful."

"I know you love me Addie. But I'd advise you to be careful too. Mark's reputation is far, far worse than Arizona's!"

"Too right," She says despondently. "Your situation looks peachy compared to mine, really. I'm eight months pregnant, my husband hates me—with good reason—and the father of my child is at present, preoccupied with a junkie."

"we're quite a pair, huh?" I say, taking her hand for comfort.

"Totally. Pin-ups for the perfect life."

We sit there, lost in our thoughts, and looking morose. There is, however, a ray of sunshine on my horizon.

"I'm taking her to the Symphony concert tomorrow."

"Seriously? She'd do that for you? Gotta give it to her, she's got guts. You couldn't get me near an orchestra if you paid me. You know you've tried to!"

"She's not clueless like you, Addie. And has better taste in music, obviously. "

"Obviously. I hate to tell you this Callie, but you are so completely smitten."

I look at Addison with a rueful smile. I'm afraid she's right.


	6. Chapter 6

ARIZONA

Calliope looks stunning tonight. She's leaning against my breakfast bar, a dreamy look in her eyes, humming bits of the melodies going round in her head from the concert. The deep shade of burgundy she's wearing compliments her burnished skin tone, her hair falls in loose curls over her bare shoulders (Her dress is held up with the thinnest of straps) and that shade of red on the curves of her perfect lips is extremely distracting. I have to remind myself to concentrate on making her coffee and not stare at those impossibly long legs when she comes around the bar and gets on to one of the stools in front of me.

The concert was amazing. The music simply blew me away. The soaring, sweeping melodies and sheer emotional intensity of the music kept the audience completely spellbound. Rachmaninov will do that to you. I had forgotten what it was like. I snuck a glance at Callie during the second movement, and was not surprised to see her eyes shining with tears. It's not an uncommon reaction in some people who experience art, or music, or even poetry very deeply—and Callie was entirely caught up in the music.

After the concert, we went to L'Aigre Doux, a tiny French restaurant that serves the most fantastic food. Calliope ordered her food in French. It was the sexiest thing—next to her car, of course. She picked me up this evening in a powder blue Thunderbird convertible, and handled the car with the effortless badassery that is so characteristic of her. Damn, the woman is _smoking_ hot. I have exercised the utmost self restraint all evening to keep my hands to myself.

We talked for hours over dinner, about everything and nothing—the music, the food, her car, my love of wheelie sneakers. And all the time, I couldn't stop _looking_ at her. The steep arch of her eyebrows, and how she manages to say whole sentences by merely raising one. Her eyes of darkest chocolate, made even more mysterious tonight with dark eye-shadow. The cupid's bow of her full lips. The way the candle-light played over her glowing skin, and her beautifully shaped hands with their long, delicate-looking fingers. And that voice! Smooth and smoky and dark, and alluring in the most inexpressible way. Yes, I know, I could be a Petrarchan poet and write sonnets about her.

When the waiters looked ready to kick us out, I invited her to come back to mine for coffee, as if we hadn't already spent the entire evening together. I thought she might refuse, because it was close to midnight and she'd have to let her babysitter go, but she agreed that coffee would be a really good idea.

"This is a really unusual space," she said, looking around as we came up the stairs and into my living room.

"It used to be a fire station. I bought it for a song, and remodeled it."

"That's amazing," She says, looking around her. "You're really clever. Maybe you should have taken up architecture, or design!"

"You saying something about my surgical skill, Calliope?"

"Of course not. You just might have had better hours. Besides,everyone knows that you are hard-core, my ice-queen." She laughs at my puzzled look, and refuses to tell me what she means. Instead, she waves a hand in my direction, indicating my outfit. I had chosen to go for the conservative yet classy look this evening, and was wearing a knee-length high-necked dress of a black clingy material, with my hair up in a French twist.

"If you come a little closer, you'll find that I can be plenty hot," I toss back at her, and am rewarded with the sight of a warm blush stealing over her cheeks. "Do you want to wait here?" I ask, indicating the couch, but she shakes her head and follows me to the pantry.

"Do you have a sitter today?" I ask her, wondering how she's managing with her kids.

"No, on Saturdays Owen takes them to his mother's place. They were all extremely excited when he picked them up this morning. He must have been absolutely exhausted by dinner time!" She seems to find this amusing, because she chuckles happily at the thought.

I bring our mugs of coffee to the bar, and sit on the high stool beside her. "I've seen your children reduce you to tears, Calliope. Have a heart!"

She sighs. "I know. And they've almost succeeded in doing that again every single day this week. You don't know how much I've been looking forward to a night of adult company and music that's not straight out of Disney."

"And did it live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, it far exceeded my expectations. The music wasn't bad either," she says playfully.

"Thank you Calliope, you're very sweet. And quite untruthful—you just told me I'm an ice-queen."

"Ice can be beautiful, Arizona." There's not a hint of a smile now.

I think my insides just melted a bit. I have to change the subject before I do something stupid.

"So… er…you speak any other languages? You seem to speak French like a native."

"Not like a native at all. I can get by, I suppose. I also speak Italian. And Spanish is my mother tongue."

"God, Calliope, did you study Romance languages as well as medicine, as _well _as music? How did you manage all that?"

"Nothing like that. I was a singer. Classical, you know. So much opera is written in Italian and French, that anyone who is serious about it has to take lessons in those languages to actually know what they're singing about. And it's not just about understanding it, you have to _pronounce_ it correctly!"

"Sounds like hell."

"I loved it." she takes a sip of her coffee, puts the mug down and looks at me. There's a sudden pause in our conversation, while we both simply look at each other. The silence stretches out, and there's a tension between us that is almost palpable. She looks at her watch.

"It's really late. I should get going," she says, slipping off her stool and stepping towards me."Thank you for coming with me, Arizona. You don't know how much I loved it." She comes even closer, and takes my hand as she speaks. She's so close I can smell her perfume. I don't speak, or breathe or blink an eye. I have lost the ability to think, so I stay immobile on my stool. She then leans in and softly kisses my cheek. God. I have to shut my eyes and will myself to be still. She pulls back slightly, but a second later she kisses my cheek again. And again, like she can't stop herself.

And then I know. I know she's going to kiss me, and I can't bear the thought of her doing that and then running away once she realizes the implications of her actions. It's happened to me before. Some part of my brain must be working, because it prompts me to act. I lift my free hand and bring it up to her face, putting my fingers over her mouth.

"Calliope," I whisper, "if you kiss me now, I'm going to kiss you back, and it won't be just as a friend. Is that what you want?"

She looks at me, and I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. Here goes, I think to myself. She's going to be seized by some deep seated panic and take off as fast as she can. But she only moves my fingers from her mouth, taking my hand and guiding it up around her neck. The next instant, those perfect lips are on mine, and she's kissing me softly, like I'm breakable. It's the headiest sensation. Then I feel her arms encircle my waist, lifting me off the stool so that I can place my feet on the floor. I'm pressed up against her, and I slide my other arm up behind her neck. She raises her lips from mine for a moment. "Does this answer your question?" she murmurs against my mouth. So I do what I've been wanting to do all evening, pulling her even closer, and kissing her fiercely, with all the pent-up feelings I've been fighting to control. Her mouth opens under mine, and from then on, we're lost to the world.

My senses are flooded with her. The smell of her perfume, the silk of her hair, the warmth of her arms round my waist, the taste of her mouth. When we finally come up for air, breathless, she leans her forehead against mine, and a small huff escapes her lips. She's amused about something? Now?

"So…" she drawls, her voice sultry, "Definitely not friends, then."

"Definitely," I say, taking her hand and leading her to the top of the stairs. "Now you'd better go home, Calliope, or I'm not going to be responsible for my actions."


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you, everyone who left reviews, for your lovely comments. They inspire me to update!

**CALLIE**

When I find my residents I'm going to make them rue the day they were born. I've been looking for Yang and Meredith Webber all morning, but they have been missing, and have not _bothered_ to contact me yet. There's a patient to be prepped for surgery, two more needing post-operative monitoring, and stacks of charts piling up all over the place. They have not responded to pages, and the interns I've sent in search of them have come back with nothing.

I've been in an exceptionally bad mood all day. I haven't been able to find Owen either, and I need to speak to him. When he dropped the kids off at home on Sunday, I told him we needed to talk. To which he responded "right now?" as if my request was crazy, and then went on to say that he'd made plans that evening. We agreed to find some time during the week to talk, but I haven't seen him in two days. Why do I get the feeling he's avoiding me?

On top of that, my schedule has been so full that I haven't been able to spend more than five minutes with Arizona, which is probably the root cause of my crankiness. Since I kissed her on Saturday, all I can think about is doing it again, remembering the way her soft curves felt pressed up against me, her hands in my hair, the taste of her kiss, how right it felt to put my arms around her… I can't seem to control myself around her. And if my residents were here, doing their jobs, I might have ten minutes of peace to even _think_ of her, since actually _meeting_ her seems to be too much to ask for today.

So I'm stomping up the stairs, on my way to check the on-call room on the next floor, and thinking of suitable ways in which to punish Yang and Webber, when I hear someone coming down.

"Why do you look like a thundercloud, Calliope?" Arizona is bouncing down the stairs, looking like she doesn't have a care in the world. She smiles almost indulgently when she sees me, her eyes going all twinkly (how can a grown woman be so goddamn cute?) and when she's almost abreast of me, slides over so that she's directly in front of me on the higher stair.

"I can't find Yang and Webb…" I start, but she shuts me up by pulling me by the front of my lab coat and kissing me.

"What did you say?" she asks, letting me go.

"I said, I can't fi…" before I can finish, she kisses me again.

"You're mumbling, Calliope," she teases, lifting her head again. I can't help laughing.

"Well, if you would let me fin…" she pulls me to her once more, and we stand there on the stairs, kissing like there was nothing else to do all day.

"If you're looking for Yang and Webber," she finally says, pulling away when someone opens the door to the stairwell, "I saw them go into an exam room a few minutes ago."

"Which one?"

"Upstairs. I'll come with you." She leads the way upstairs, and takes me to the exam room Yang and Webber are supposed to be in. I open the door quietly and walk in, Arizona on my heels. A curtain has been drawn around the examination table, but I hear the voices of my residents arguing.

"OW! Watch it! You're hurting me!"

"Well find someone else to do it then."

"Just put it on, Meredith, hurry up!"

"What kind of sex gives you _that _kind of injury?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is, if I have to touch it!"

I put my finger to my lips and look at Arizona, getting ready to pull the curtain back.

"Oh my god, Mer, could you please just put it on!"

I grab the curtain and pull it back. The sight that meets my eyes is strange in the extreme. Yang is lying face down on the exam table, with her pants about her knees and buttocks exposed. Buttocks that look like they've just been the main course at a barbecue. Webber is hovering over her with a cold compress and what looked like a jar of aloe vera, and trying to apply it on Yang's criss-crossed butt with a spatula.

I survey the scene in disbelief, my temper rising with each second that they stare back at me, slack-jawed and goggle-eyed.

"YANG! WEBBER! Have you lost your minds? With patients who have real problems needing your attention, you two have decided to play hooky so that you can inspect her ass?!" My voice is rising against their yammering responses. "I don't care how you got your ass burned, Christina, just cover it! And you're in the pit for the rest of the week. Meredith, since you seem to be so interested in proctology, that's what you're going to be doing until I decide otherwise. Now go!"

Meredith is out of there before I can finish speaking, and Christina follows as fast as her burned ass will allow her.

I turn to Arizona, seething with anger. "Can you believe those two? I have been run off my feet all day, and they've been burning their asses for fun!"

"To be fair, Calliope, only Yang got her ass burned. And, from what I heard of that conversation, she probably _was_ having fun when she sustained the um…injury!" She looks at me with a quirky smile, and taking my hand, pulls me forward a few feet towards the examination table, while she pulls the curtain back around us with her other hand.

"Would you look at that. It seems like we're alone, Dr. Torres." She says, stepping closer to me and pushing me back slightly so that my back makes contact with the table. She then steps even closer, takes my hands and draws my arms around her, saying quietly in my ear, "this is what you do when a girl takes the trouble to get you alone for the first time in days."

"Just that? I think I can manage that," I say, tightening my arms around her and pulling her against me.

"Well, protocol demands that you show your appreciation a little more."

"Like this?" I breathe out on her ear, trailing my lips down to her collar bone and back. "Or like this?" I say, kissing her lips.

"Just like that, Calliope." Her palm comes up to my cheek as she kisses me back, biting down gently on my lower lip before running her tongue along it. My hands have taken on a life of their own, moving down her body until they are resting on her perfect behind. I move them down to the backs of her thighs, lifting her up, and she responds by wrapping her legs around me while I turn and place her on the table. We stay locked in that position, making out like a couple of hormonal teenagers until the door is noisily pushed open and, by the sound of it, a couple of interns come in, bent on doing the very same thing we were.

I freeze.

"Don't panic," Arizona whispers in my ear as she unlocks her legs from around me. She slips off the table, runs a hand through her mussed up hair and walks out calmly, taking care to leave the curtain pulled around the exam table.

"Edwards. Peterson. Might I suggest you spend your time doing what you studied half your life to do, and not use the hospital facilities to propagate yourselves, as you most probably will if you continue in this fashion. Now if you don't mind, I'm examining a patient."

The interns mumble an apology and hastily leave, not stopping to think about why Arizona would be examining a patient so far from the Peds ward.

She comes back around the curtain, a triumphant grin on her face.

"Examining a patient, were you?" I ask her.

"Yes, and I'm afraid I couldn't really do as thorough an examination as I'd have liked," she says seriously, pulling the curtain back, "but I have to get back now."

"Maybe some other time," I tell her, with my most charming smile, as we head out the door.

_**Later**_

The problem with having annihilated my residents and sent them off to the pit is that _**I**_ am stuck with charts now. I've hunkered down behind the nurses' station, with what looks like a fort of files around me. In the last half hour, I've come to realize that this position is an ideal one if you want to hear what's really going on in this hospital. Behind the counter, hidden by files, I've learned some amazing and intimate little nuggets of information from the conversations of residents, interns and attendings who don't have a clue as to who's listening. Who knew that Kepner has been sleeping with Karev? I certainly didn't! Avery and Mark Sloan are both vying for the attentions of the junkie who was brought into the ER a couple of weeks ago. So far, Sloan seems to be winning. And even more interesting, it turns out the Junkie, who goes by the name of Lucille Ball (witty, that!) is really Meredith's half-sister. I really haven't made much progress with the charts, my mind has been too busy processing this influx of information.

Just as I'm getting back down to work, another set of interns comes by. They lean against the counter, chatting.

"Robbins chewed Edwards out—apparently she was making out with Peterson in one of the exam rooms." Well, that wasn't news to me.

"Torres sent Yang to the pit. And Webber is stuck with every rectal exam and bowel obstruction in the hospital for the next week!" They snigger among themselves.

"I heard that Yang got her ass burned."

"That's so not true. It was Webber. Apparently, she and Mcdreary are having sad, dreary sex all over the place, and they did it against one of the vents in the basement." I wonder how the interns make all this up, and if Addison has heard this particular rumour.

"How do you know?"

"You guys have got it all wrong. It was Webber and Hunt. Don't you know he and Torres are separated?" I think I almost gasped out loud. Owen and Meredith…? Not likely. Owen wouldn't.

"Have you guys noticed that Torres and Robbins are together a lot now?"

"Oh, come on, you wish! That's so not going to happen. Torres is like, so straight. And she has kids. Besides, wasn't Robbins with Michaels?"

"Old news. Robbins ended it a couple of weeks ago. Michaels hasn't been too happy about it." Well, that's one of my questions answered! I can't help but smile about that little piece of information.

"You people have so got the wrong end of the stick," a new voice is added to the mix. "It wasn't Webber and Hunt, it was Yang and Hunt, down in the basement. And yeah, she did get her ass burned—have you seen the way she's walking?"

"O.M.G, you guys, Yang is so totally doing Hunt!"

I've had enough of this nonsense. I stand up behind them, and clear my throat. They turn round, eyes bugging out of their heads.

"Do you all want to help Meredith with rectal exams this week? If you have nothing better to do than stand around vilifying people's characters, I can certainly arrange for you to spend your time in a more gainful way."

The interns scamper off in confusion, and I sit back down with my charts, but I can't concentrate now. The interns' strange ideas about Yang and Owen have disturbed me, and I'm wondering how they could have ever got the idea to link his name with Yang or Webber. I'm a firm believer in the 'no smoke without fire' theory.

I have to speak to Owen, and soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**ARIZONA**

"Calliope, maybe you've had enough now?" I suggest, trying to pry her fingers off a shot glass.

"I'm fine, Arizona. Don't you see how fine I am? I could have another five and still be fine. Don't worry."

I must admit, apart from the fact that the alcohol seems to have loosened her tongue and made her eyes shine brilliantly, she does seem fine. She's perched on a bar stool beside me, jealously guarding a row of shots. I've never seen Calliope look anything other than perfectly put together, as if she just stepped out from between the pages of a glossy magazine. Tonight however, she's discarded her habitual look for a pair of tight dark jeans, and a T-shirt that clings to her in all the right places. Over this she's worn a black leather jacket –who knew she even owned such a thing—and the effect is stunning. I may even have drooled a little bit when I walked into Joe's half an hour ago and saw her sitting there. And next to her, sipping orange juice and looking terribly ill-at-ease with her almost nine-month belly, Addison Montgomery.

The moment I walked in, Addison hailed me with relief. "Arizona! Over here," she waved me over. "Sorry I had to call you. I didn't know who else to call—Owen is probably the last person she wants to see. I need you to take her home, please? I would, but –"

"Its fine, Addison," I said, "You look really uncomfortable. Just go—I'll see that she gets back ok."

"Thank you!" she gasped gratefully, maneuvering herself off the bar stool, "Don't let her start dancing, whatever you do!" and with that cryptic piece of information, she left as fast as her very pregnant body would let her. I was thankful Addison lived just across the street from the hospital and didn't have to drive home.

For the last half hour, Calliope has systematically been working her way through a line of shots, her conversation becoming less filtered with each one. She's a very affectionate drunk, I find to my amusement.

She's been looking at me fixedly for a while now, as if she's considering something very serious. Then she reaches out and touches my cheek. "You're _beautiful_," she says, like it's a stunning revelation. "I never really looked at you until a few weeks ago—until Riley's case. How come we never saw each other before, Arizona?"

I didn't want to say that she'd been married, and I had rules about that, because lately my rule book and common sense both seem to have gone out the window. What is it about her that makes me completely disregard everything I've put in place to protect myself?

"Thank you Calliope," I tell her, taking her hand from my face and holding it in my lap, "I've _always_ thought you were gorgeous." She blushes deeply under her tan, but looks pleased. "Even when you were fighting me every step of the way over Riley.

"I'm sorry, I can be a bitch. A cold one, apparently." Her smile falters briefly, and she looks down at the shot in her hand. "Are you sure you don't want one? It's just what the doctor ordered, you know."

"I'm sure Calliope. And you're not cold—quite the opposite, in fact." I fight the urge to put my arms around her as she sits there looking unlawfully attractive in that leather jacket, and vulnerable and lost at the same time.

"You're being nice."

"I'm being honest."

"I'd kiss you, you know. Only, I've never kissed a woman in public before. Actually, I've never kissed a woman, period. Before I kissed you, I mean." She looks at me smiles suddenly. "I could get used to it."

"Well, speaking as someone who's been on the receiving end, I'd like to say that your kissing skills are…breathtaking."

She looks at me for a minute, and then, very deliberately, leans forward and places a lingering kiss on my mouth, leaving any spectators in no doubt as to its context. It is decidedly French.

"Dutch courage, Calliope?" I ask her as she moves back.

"Maybe. But I probably would have done it sober too," she says, reaching for her next shot. "So here's looking at you, kid," she says, winking at me.

I grab her hand before she can bring the shot to her lips. "I think that's enough now. Do you think maybe we should get you home?"

"You're no fun tonight," she pouts. "I think I deserve some fun, don't you?"

"Of course you do," I humor her, taking the glass out of her hand.

"Then will you dance with me?"

I remember Addison's advice, and try not to laugh. "I'd love to dance with you, on a night when you can stand straight. I promise I'll take you out dancing anytime you want, if you just let me take you home now."

She capitulates at long last, and I get off the bar stool and wait for her to do the same, putting my arm around her waist as she gets off. I lead her out of the bar, ignoring the curious stares along the way.

She's relatively quiet on the way home, leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed, opening them now and again to give me directions. Her place, when I drive up and park outside, looks like the perfect suburban home, tasteful and quiet. There's an understated but definite aura of affluence about the place. The only thing that sticks out is her T-Bird parked in the driveway.

She fumbles with her keys at the door, dropping them and swearing under her breath. I find the keys, and open the front door for her. On the inside, her house is much more interesting. Calliope's taste is decidedly modern, the colors bold and warm, the furniture minimalistic, yet comfortable. The living room furniture is upholstered in black, and highlighted with cushions in warm jewel tones.

"Home sweet home," she says, taking off her jacket, making for the couch and flopping down on it. "Do you know, if I lift my feet off the ground, I feel like I'm floating away…"

"I'm familiar with the sensation, Calliope. Will you keep your feet on the floor?" I can see she's not likely to get off the couch, so I walk through the living room and find my way into her kitchen. I can't immediately see where she might keep her glasses, so I grab a coffee mug from the rack by the sink, fill it with water and take it back to her.

"Where did you go? I missed you," she says, opening her eyes. "Sit with me, Arizona." she pats the cushion next to her invitingly. I sit beside her and hand her the mug.

"Drink the water, Calliope."

She makes a face at me. "Yes Dr. Robbins." She drains the mug and hands it back to me. "All done…hey, where are you going?" I make her drink two more mugs of water before she protests.

"I'll burst if I drink any more. Can you just sit for a minute? Don't worry, I'm not going to throw up. I didn't have that many." She waits till I sit down beside her, scoots closer and leans her head on my arm. She stays that way so long that I think she's fallen asleep.

"I'm getting divorced." She says quietly.

I don't really know how to respond, so I say nothing, but put my hand out on her leg, palm up. She lays her hand in mine, and stays leaning against me, the minutes ticking by slowly. Her breathing deepens, and her hand slackens its grip on mine. I know she's asleep. I slowly move the arm she's leaning against behind and around her, and move her head onto my shoulder. Resigning myself to an uncomfortable night, I lean my head back on the cushions and nod off as well. It's been a long day.

I wake up with a crick in my neck, feeling hungry and uncomfortably warm. I hadn't had dinner yet when I got Addison's SOS. Calliope is draped over me, head burrowed into my neck, and one arm thrown possessively round my waist. I can feel her breath tickling my neck, and the warmth of her fingers which have found their way under my shirt and are splayed over my ribs. It's an odd and strangely intimate position for me to find myself in. I don't do intimate. Not even with people who have shared my bed, so waking up to find Calliope wrapped around me like this would normally have had me running screaming for the door. But I'm strangely calm. Instead of the sharp knives of panic I expect to feel in my gut, I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of affection when I look down at her, face peaceful, long lashes throwing shadows on her cheeks.

I need to move, however, because my neck and shoulders are aching. I bring my free hand up to her cheek and stroke it softly.

"Calliope?"

She mutters in her sleep, turning her face into my neck so that I can feel her lips pressed against me.

"Calliope, wake up."

"Mmmm" she moves her hand up under my shirt. A little more and she'll be touching my breast. If I don't wake her up soon, I'm going to explode.

A little more firmly this time, I pat her cheek and shake her a little. "Calliope!"

She groans grumpily and I feel her eyes flutter open. She stays still for a minute, disoriented. Then she moves her head back so that she can look at me, her eyes still blurry with sleep.

"Arizona?"

"Yeah, It's me Calliope," I say, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Did I pass out on you? Oh my god, did I throw up on you?"

"Let's say you just fell asleep on me, and no, you didn't throw up. I'm impressed with your ability to hold your liquor." To my surprise, she puts her head back down on my shoulder, and though she knows her hand is up my shirt, makes no effort to remove it.

"What time is it? Have you been like this all night?"

I look at my watch. We have been asleep for about three hours. "It's just past 2 a.m. You started partying a bit early tonight."

She sighs and pulls me a bit closer. "I'm starving."

"So am I."

She moves her hand down over my stomach. "Then that's where all that noise was coming from," she chuckles.

"I think that was you snoring, Calliope. And drooling, I might add."

"Drooling? Really?" She draws back and inspects the front of my shirt, but sees no telltale patches. "Liar." She then gets unsteadily to her feet, and holds out her hand to me. "Come on, I'll get you something to eat."

I let her pull me up and lead me to the pantry, but once we're there I get her to sit down at the table. "I'll fix us something Callie. You should drink more water if you don't want a headache tomorrow morning," I say, placing the mug I used before in front of her. She reluctantly agrees with me, and drinks the water on condition I make coffee afterwards. I check out the fridge and find most of a pizza still in its box. Good enough.

We sit silently for a while, occupied mostly with the pizza, and I'm hungry enough not to care that it is plain cheese. Callie explains that it is Allegra's favorite kind, but that her children are with their father for the weekend. She looks a little sad. "I had that talk with Owen this morning."

I don't make a comment or ask any questions. If she wants to tell me, she'll tell me.

"You know that burn mark on Yang's ass?"

"The memory is indelibly etched in my mind, Calliope."

"Seems she really did get it having sex with Owen in the basement. On a vent."

"I'm sorry, Calliope. How did you find out?"

"I asked him. I heard some interns talking about it, and since they'd got the part about Yang burning her ass right, I figured there had to be some truth to the rumor."

I reach across the table and take her hand. "How long?"

"Just once, he said. But he admitted that he's been attracted to her for a while now. From before he moved out. Apparently she understands him. And I don't. This is _Yang_ we're talking about Arizona. A _robot_ has more sympathy and understanding. What does that say about me?"

"Calliope, you don't need me to tell you what a beautiful person you are. You have more warmth in your toenail than Yang has in her entire body. And have you _looked_ at you? People literally forget to finish their sentences when they see you!"

She smiles at me and squeezes my hand. "I think you may be a tiny bit biased. But thank you. Anyway, this has been a while coming. I was just ignoring the signs, you know. Hoping that it would go away if I didn't acknowledge it. Things haven't been right between us since before the twins were born, and since Owen came back from Iraq, we've been like polite strangers sharing a house. Not to mention the fact that our sex life has been …."

"Oh no no no no no, Calliope, I don't want to hear about that." I interrupt her before she can go any further. "Spare me the details, please."

She laughs. "Alright. Let's just say it's been a little dry around here."

"That's more than enough."

"Then this morning I asked him outright about Yang, and he admitted it. I'm not even that angry Arizona. I think my ego is bruised more than anything else… anyway, we agreed that we're not good for each other. I'm going to be a divorcee. Life never turns out the way you plan, huh?"

"Why the tequila binge Calliope?"

"I was marking the end of a period in my life. Trying to accept that I failed at something. That Yang might be a part of my children's lives."

"Oh. Well that warrants a couple of shots, I'd say."

"So I called poor Addison, who felt bad to say no. She couldn't take off fast enough when you showed up."

"I'm glad she had the sense to call me."

"I'm glad you came," she says. "You must have had a pretty awful night. I'm sorry Arizona."

"I had a pretty woman sleep on me and feel me up. What's not to like?"

She blushes hotly, and doesn't attempt to defend herself. "I'd do it again if I could," she says, smiling at me. She draws me like a magnet, this woman. I'm powerless to resist her. I find myself rising and going to her, pulling her chair out and to the side. I take her face between my hands and kiss her hard. "Well, I'm giving you the opportunity," I tell her, and she catches me round waist, pulling me down so that I'm straddling her on the chair. Her hands slide down my sides to settle on my butt, and she buries them in the back pockets of my jeans, pulling me even closer.

I've lost it now. I can't stop myself anymore. I kiss her neck, nipping and biting, taking in her scent, the smoothness of her skin, her pulse fluttering under my mouth, before I make my way back to her lips. She takes her hands out of my pockets and pushes my shirt up until I have to raise my arms and discard it. She stops for a minute, looking at me, at my body, with undisguised lust. Yet her hands are gentle as they touch my sides, my back, my breasts—almost wondering. I think I'm going to pass out with sheer want. Her lips are on my neck, hands moving to unclasp my bra. Then she stops quite suddenly. Oh god, please tell me this is not happening.

Then she whispers in my ear, her voice about an octave lower and raspy with desire, "I've got a bedroom upstairs, Arizona. And a bed."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This is the first time I've attempted to write anything remotely M rated, so if you feel like throwing bricks at me, I totally understand!

**ARIZONA**

This feels almost surreal. Like I'm dreaming, and I'm going to wake up to find myself cold and alone in my bed, not held tight in the embrace of long, honey-colored limbs glistening with sweat, and with the achingly beautiful, sinfully delicious body of Calliope Torres arching beneath me. But I'm not dreaming. Her breath is hot on my neck, coming in quick gasps, and sudden, bitten-off expletives leave her lips at regular intervals. She's trying to be quiet. Biting her lips, pressing her face into my neck and shoulder, biting _me_—but she's not able to control the ragged moans that are torn from her throat. Her body arches uncontrollably into mine with every thrust of my hand. She's clamped tight around my fingers, and every time I curl them up against her she gasps "fffuck," into my neck. I've never heard her swear before, and hearing her moaning this litany against my ear is making me lose what little control I have left.

Lifting myself off her slightly, I look down at her face. Her hair is spread like a fan of black silk behind her head, her eyes are closed, and her bottom lip is gripped tightly between her teeth. She is on the verge…and I mean to keep her there a little longer. Slowing down, I lean down and whisper in her ear. "Open your eyes, Calliope."

She looks up at me, and her dark-chocolate eyes are black with need.

"There's no-one but me to hear you," I say, in her ear, "and I love the sound of your voice." I thrust in slowly, curling my fingers firmly up on the way out, and her eyes slam shut.

"Oh, God!"

I repeat the movement, tortuously slow.

"Arizona!" She's a little louder now.

Again, the slow thrust with a finger-curl and extra twist this time.

"Oh god! Arizona! Please!" A harsh cry is pulled from her, and the sound of my name on her mouth in _that_ tone is enough to make me stop teasing her. She's like warm wet silk around my fingers as I push in deeper and faster. She clings to me, pulling me down to her, kissing me, burying her head in my neck. She moves with me, arching into me with every thrust, moaning my name in my ear, swearing and calling on god in the same breath. Her back is a rigid bow now, and I can feel her walls tightening on my fingers, clamping down on me.

"Let go Calliope," I whisper in her ear. "I've got you." One final thrust and she's tumbling over the edge, stifling her cries in my neck, hips thrusting up helplessly while the spasms rip through her body. God help me, I've never seen or felt anything sexier.

She stays wrapped around me while her breathing returns to normal, her back slowly relaxing into the mattress, her legs unlocking from around me. I let my weight settle on her, as her eyes flutter open. She looks at me with those darkened eyes, lips slightly bruised from biting down on them, hair wildly mussed, a film of sweat on her shoulders and breasts. She's impossibly beautiful. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up from this trance she's got me in, and every day I find I'm deeper and deeper ensnared in her.

She runs her hands gently down my back, all the way down to my buttocks and back up my body, over my shoulders, until they are buried in my hair. She pulls me down to her, kissing me slowly, sensuously.

"I think," she says, between kisses, "that I just had an out of body experience." She rolls onto her side, bringing me with her. Her hand wanders down my side, coming back up to stop at the curve of my breast. She then rolls me over so that I'm on my back, and raises herself on one elbow, simply looking at me. She moves her hand over my breast, drawing her thumb against the nipple, and smiling when she feels it harden under her touch.

"Why do you find that amusing, Calliope?" I ask softly. She doesn't answer for a minute, watching her hand trail down my body, raising a track of goose pimples in its wake. She tickles my stomach lightly, a small laugh escaping her when the muscles contract and dance under her hand.

"Not amusing, precisely," she says after a while. "I just like knowing that your body can react like that to my touch." Her hand is now hovering a little uncertainly over the apex of my thighs.

"Give me your hand, Calliope." When she does, I lay it flat against my tummy and guide it down between my legs. "This is what your touch does to me."

_**Later**_

I wake up to the sound of a neighbor's dog barking. The clock on Callie's nightstand reads 7.a.m., I can't have been asleep for very long. Calliope is sprawled over the bed on her stomach, the sheets half kicked off and tangled about her legs, one arm thrown carelessly across me. For a novice, she proved last night that she's got a very steep learning curve. I've just spent what was left of the night having mind-altering, earth-shattering sex with her, and my first reaction when I look at her, is an instant and overwhelming desire to wake her up and do it all over again-to feel her clench around my hand, come in my mouth, to hold her slippery and panting on my thigh. She is like a drug and I'm already addicted.

However, it's 7 a.m., and I'm still in her bed. I'm not sure what I should do. That's a first. I know what I _want_ to do—wake the sleeping goddess and make her scream my name again—but that is probably not the most advisable course of action. Normally, I would be long gone by now. I don't hang around, don't do afterglow, don't do morning sex and most certainly don't do breakfast the morning after. So why am I still here, staring at her while she sleeps? What if she wakes up and finds me still here and wants me out of her way? Awkward. Not to mention the fact that I'm not certain that my actions last night were the most ethical. In fact, they fall firmly in the category of _what were you thinking, Arizona_? The woman was drunk. And hurting. Admittedly, she wasn't really _that_ drunk when we fell into bed together, but what if she wakes up and regrets it? What if she realizes it was all a big mistake, and that she slept with me to get back at Owen? Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ move Arizona. Why couldn't you just exercise some of that control you're famous for?

I surreptitiously move her hand off my stomach, so as not to wake her, and turning, slide my legs over the edge of the bed. I sit there, with my back turned to her, trying to remember where I discarded various items of clothing.

"Arizona?" I feel her hand touch my back between my shoulder blades and slide all the way down. "Are you leaving?"

I turn around and look at her. She's propping herself up on one arm, reaching out to me with the other.

"I'll just get out of your hair Calliope. I'm sorry…" I can't finish my sentence because she moves across the bed to sit behind me. Sliding her hands around my waist, she lays her fingers flat against my abdomen.

"Do you have to be at the hospital?" she murmurs in my ear, her hands moving up to cup my breasts. I think I just lost the power of speech. I shake my head, and gasp out "not till tomorrow" while she drapes those long legs of hers on either side of me.

"Then stay," she whispers, pulling me into her. Her thumbs flick against my nipples and I arch into her touch in spite of myself.

"I don't … want to be in your way," I manage to get out, but my traitorous body is already succumbing to her magic. My head falls back on her shoulder, and she places soft, open mouthed kisses on my neck.

"Stay, please…" she says, moving one hand slowly down my body until it dips between my legs. Oh god.

"Calliope…" I try one last time, half-heartedly.

"It's not a marriage contract, Arizona," she says, lazily licking the shell of my ear, "just relax. Stay."

I give up, turning my face to her and relaxing in her arms, kissing her languidly, giving into the sensation of having her body wrapped around mine. She brings her right leg over mine, hooking her foot around my calf and moving my legs apart. She strokes one finger lightly down the length of me, smiling when I moan into her mouth. She repeats the action, just barely grazing my clit. Apparently, she likes to tease. I lie back on her, and let her have her way. For someone who eschews cuddling and morning sex of the prolonged, languorous variety, I'm in imminent danger of doing both.

"You're so wet," she husks in my ear.

"What do you expect, when you're doing… oh god… doing that?"

She withdraws her fingers, seems to consider something for a minute, and then moves decisively. She draws us back from the edge of the bed, pushing me down gently on the pillows and positioning herself over me. "You topping me, Calliope?" My tone is indulgent, and she looks down at me, almost predatory, letting her eyes roam over my body. Then her expression changes.

"Oh God, did I do that?" she gasps, looking horrified. She runs her fingers softly over the juncture of my neck and shoulder. It _is_ a little sore. I can't see it, but I guess that she left a mark when she bit into my shoulder last night, in the throes of an orgasm.

"Yes, Calliope. I'll take it as proof of your having had a good time," I say, smiling smugly.

She leans down and kisses me, taking her time. She leaves a wet trail from my ear to my neck, hovering over her bite to lick and kiss the bruise. "I'm sorry," she says contritely, "you drove me wild last night." Then she moves down, stopping at my breasts to nip and tease for a minute, but soon moves further south, and I know what she intends to do. It is territory she hasn't ventured into yet.

"Callie," I put my hand on her head, "You don't have to …"

"I want to," she says, settling herself between my thighs "though you might have to guide me …"

_**Later still**_

_**CALLIE**_

It's past lunch time, according to what my body is telling me. We've been holed up in my bedroom for the best part of twelve hours, catching snatches of sleep between rounds of sex that for me, have been life-altering. It's been a long time since I've done this, or even felt like this-so utterly enamored of someone. She's lying half on me, her head heavy on my shoulder, blonde hair tickling my cheek, and one leg hooked around mine. There's a light sheen of sweat that's drying on her cooling body, and the flush that suffused her porcelain skin minutes ago is now ebbing away.

"I think I'm going to die, Calliope. You're going to kill me, and I'm going to die happy," she mutters into my neck. "Are you sure you've never slept with a woman before?"

"I'm quite positive," I reply.

"Could have fooled me," she says, rolling over to lie on her back next to me. She stares up at the ceiling for a while, looking thoughtful. Then she turns to me. "Maybe we can eat sometime today?"

I laugh. Yes, we have completely forgotten more mundane things like eating. "I don't know, Arizona. I think I ate just a little while ago. Um, twice."

"Calliope! You did _not_ just say that!"

"Sorry, sorry … lets go downstairs and I'll fix us some lunch."

"What, you mean leave the bedroom?" she opens her eyes in mock horror. And then, sitting up and gazing at me with a strange look on her face, "_That_ sounds domestic."

I can practically read the thoughts going on behind that look. I sit up and take her face in my hands. "Look, sweetie," I tell her in my most no-nonsense tone, "I'm a mother. If someone is hungry, I will feed them. It's instinctive. There's nothing more to it than that." With that, I get off the bed and head towards the bathroom.

"You called me sweetie." She states, looking at me curiously, but smiling a little.

"Yeah?" I say over my shoulder, "Maybe because I think you're sweet."

xxxxxx

Arizona is sitting at my pantry table, leaning back in her chair, dressed in nothing but an old T-shirt of mine, which just about covers her ass. She has demolished her plate of chicken and pasta salad, and is working her way through a rocky road crunch bar. She seems to like her sweets.

"That was really amazing Calliope. Thank you," she says, offering me the last bite. I take it, lick the remnants of chocolate off her fingers, and then lean forward to lick a smudge at the corner of her mouth.

"Anywhere else I may have chocolate? You're welcome to it," she says cheekily, "if that's how you're going to get rid of it!" She tilts her head to a side, looking at me thoughtfully, as if she's contemplating something.

"What, Arizona?"

"Do you want to go out dancing? I heard you like to dance," she smiles, her dimples popping. "It's Saturday night … if you don't have anything else to do, would you like to go out? With me?"

I pull her out of her chair and wrap my arms around her.

"I _would_ like to go out. With you. Who told you?"

"You did, last night. And I promised I'd take you. You probably don't remember. Any signs of a hangover today?"

"Not really. Maybe, very early this morning… but I don't think it stood a chance against the multiple orgasms."

"Mmm. You can call me anytime you have a headache, Calliope," she says, resting her head on my shoulder. "I'm going to take off now, ok? I need to shower, and sleep—you know we'll never do that if I stay. I'll pick you up tonight?"

Arizona leaves shortly, after a hunt for the clothes we hastily discarded last night, and promises to pick me up by 10 tonight. I head for the shower, and my exhausted body is out like a light as soon as it hits the bed. My last thought as I drift off is that I need to change my sheets.

_**Sunday morning.**_

I wake up to the sound of my neighbor's German Shepherd going through his morning routine. He has a habit of barking incessantly until he is taken out for his morning walk. I really must speak to them, this is getting old. I close my eyes again, determined to get back to sleep, but my mind is wandering over how we spent the night. Arizona showed up on my doorstep looking like she had stepped off a runway, oozing sex appeal and dressed in severe black from top to toe—black skinny jeans, black top with a wide neckline that left her neck and shoulders bare. Even her eye make-up was dark, which together with her startling blue eyes, made her look almost feline. The bite—it really couldn't be called a hickey—I'd given her was masked with concealer, but was still faintly visible. To me, it just added to her allure. She caused looks and comments at every club we went to—both male and female eyes followed her around all night, but she seemed to have eyes only for me. And I couldn't keep my hands off her.

I found dancing with her pure pleasure. It's up there next to surgery and music on my list of favorite things to do now. Owen has two left feet—dancing with him is like offering your toes up for amputation, so I used avoid it as much as possible. Arizona, however, seemed to find my rhythm unerringly. At around 2. a.m., pressed up against me and swaying to the beat of a slower song, she suggested going home with a look in her eye that could only mean one thing. We could barely make it up the stairs this time. Grinding on each other for hours on the dance floor had been like some kind of extended foreplay, and ended up making love until the sun came up. Again.

I glance at her now, lying deeply asleep next to me, exhausted. She's on her side, fair hair tousled on the pillow, one arm curled possessively over me, the sheet slipping down around her hips. As I look at her, I feel myself teetering on the brink of a dangerous abyss. I must proceed with caution, if I'm not to fall over that edge too soon. Having said that, I know I've exercised very little caution lately, in connection with her.

I lie there, deep in my thoughts, and don't hear anything until it's too late. It's only when there's a voice calling "Callie!" coming up the stairs that I realize we are not alone in my house. Startled, I sit up suddenly, about to wake Arizona, but before I can do anything, there's a peremptory knock on my bedroom door, which opens a moment later to reveal the suit-clad figure of … Aria?! She stops for a minute, taking in the scene, and then yells, "CALLIOPE IPHIGENIA TORRES! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you, everyone who left reviews! I truly appreciate your comments.

**ARIZONA**

There's a lot of yelling. And most of it is coming from the Callie-clone who has barged into the room. She looks like a leaner, meaner Callie with the attitude of a particularly vicious Doberman. She's angular where Calliope is curvaceous, and strident, (like said Doberman), where Calliope's voice could melt stone. Calliope is sitting up, clutching the sheet to her naked body, and doing her best to shield me from view, putting herself between me and the woman who looks like she's ready to tear out my jugular.

"Aria! Get out!" Callie's voice, raised angrily, can finally be heard over the tirade coming from the woman I can only assume is her sister. Aria turns to go, telling Callie she better be downstairs in five minutes, dressed. The door slams behind her, and for a stunned minute, neither of us can speak. Calliope turns slowly and looks at me, eyes wide, looking as pale as her bronzed skin will let her. We gaze at each other for a moment, and then I shrug. "Wow. Not a morning person, huh?"

Calliope looks taken aback for a moment, and then, her mouth curves up into that wonderful, signature grin and we burst into the most inappropriate fit of giggles. She leans into me for a moment, kissing me briefly before throwing off the sheet she's been clutching to her chest and getting out of bed.

"Yes, that's Aria. She can be quite charming," she says, holding her hand out to me and pulling me out of bed. "Come on. I guess I'm going to have to see what she wants and what she's doing here. You don't have to stay, Arizona."

"Calliope. I'm not going to slink out of here like a criminal. Let's go. Um, as soon as I can locate my pants…you've got a habit of throwing my clothes around—not that I mind, but it's a bit difficult to locate them after, you know…"

ooo OOO ooo

Downstairs, Aria is pacing up and down, wearing a track in the living room carpet. Callie heads to the pantry to put some coffee on, ignoring her. Soon we hear the clack of her heels, and she walks into the pantry haughtily, looking down her nose at me like she's seeing a particularly nasty roach.

"Aria, this is Arizona Robbins. Arizona, my sister Aria." Callie introduces us as if we were meeting under the most normal circumstances.

"Hi," I say in my most cheerful voice, but she doesn't even acknowledge me.

"I think you'll understand that I need to speak to you alone, Callie," her voice is brittle as ice.

"You can speak to me in front of Arizona. She's my—" Calliope's voice falters for a second, and I feel a bit hot about the ears too. What are we to each other? It's still too new to be defined.

"—friend," Callie finishes, and even to my ears, it sounds lame.

"Yes," sneers Aria, "I can see that you're very _friendly_. What do you do for a living, Arizona? When you're not jumping into bed with emotionally unstable and susceptible women?"

The woman's hostility is pouring off her in waves. I open my mouth to respond, but Callie comes around to stand behind my chair. Putting her hands on my shoulders she snaps,

"That's enough! If you can't speak to her with civility then leave my house. Why are you here, Aria? How did you even get in?"

"I got the key from Owen this morning. He at least was contactable, unlike you. He thought you might have been in surgery or at the hospital, because I've been trying to call you for hours, and you haven't picked up your phone. I asked him if I could stay here till you finished-though I noticed your car in the drive, so I knew you were home."

"That doesn't explain why you're here." Callie sounds extremely pissed.

"Daddy asked me to speak with you-He got to hear that you and Owen are getting divorced. He would have come himself, but he's in London this week. And it was easier for me anyway, to come up from LA." It was almost incongruous, hearing this woman call her father 'daddy.' She looked like the last person who would have the smallest sentimental bone in her body.

"I don't think my divorce is any of your business. It's between Owen and me. " Callie's tone brooks no argument, but Aria ploughs ahead.

"Imagine my surprise then, when I come here to find you not only getting divorced, but in bed with a woman. A _woman_, Callie. What are you thinking? Have you lost your mind? Have you any idea what daddy would do if he found out? Divorce is bad enough, but _this_?" She gestures towards us. "It's a sin against God and nature, Callie!"

"Aria, please stop before you say something you'll regret…" Calliope's voice is trembling. I put my hand up to hold the one that's gripping my shoulder. Aria observes my action, and it makes her even angrier.

She rounds on Callie, "Is _she_ the reason you're getting divorced, Callie? This…this…opportunistic, home-wrecking trollop?" She gestures towards me, contempt on every line of her face. I must say, I don't look my best this morning, wearing the clothes I went clubbing in last night, but _trollop_? Who uses language like that anymore? The words sting, however, and I can feel my face coloring painfully.

"I told you not to speak to her like that! Seriously, I'm this close from slapping you!" Callie takes a threatening step towards Aria, who backs off a bit.

"Your sister had decided to get divorced before we …" I start, but Aria cuts in.

"I know your type. You're just trying to edge your way in for what you can get out of all this."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, and to my intense mortification, I can feel angry tears gathering in my eyes. Oh God, not now!

"Oh, try another line. Don't know about the Torres chain?"

"Shut UP, Aria, she doesn't know a thing about it!

"Torres Chain? The hotels? What does that…" Oh. Ooooooh. It suddenly clicks. Callie Torres. Torres Hotels and Resorts. Calliope is an heir to a billion-dollar industry. I swallow hard. "Y-you're one of _those_ Torres'?" I ask Callie. She squeezes my hand in response.

"Yeah, I don't go around advertising it." She leans down and puts her arms round me, whispering in my ear, "Don't freak out." Aria turns away from her mild display of affection, looking disgusted.

"What about your children, Callie? Have you given a single thought to them?"

"I'm _always_ thinking about them Aria. One of the main reasons Owen and I split is because we were both concerned for the safety of the children. So please, can you just—"

"What are their lives going to be like, having their mother involved with a _lesbian_?" she hisses the word as if it were filthy.

"It's not a _disease_," I say, and I know my voice is shaky.

"What do you want, Ms. Robbins? What's it going to cost for you to get your claws out of my little sister? Name your price."

"ARIA! How dare you? Goddamn it, just leave! NOW!" Calliope looks ready to commit grievous bodily harm.

"I'm not interested in your money. I make enough of my own. As far as I can see, your sister is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions—and what she chooses to do, or _who_ she chooses to do is her own affair. I suggest you pull your head out of your ass and figure out that you're living in the 21st century, and not in some bigoted hole you've been hiding in. Divorce happens! Gay people are real! They have jobs and children and even get married just like you. And it's _Doctor _Robbins!" I'm shouting by the time I finish. I push my chair out, removing Callie's arms from around me. I need to get out of here before I humiliate myself and cry. I head to door, grabbing my purse and keys from where I left them last night in the vestibule. Tears are pouring down my face now-I don't think I've ever been so angry before. I'm no stranger to insults—I grew up with the name Arizona, after all—but I've never been called a slut and a gold digger to my face.

"Arizona! Stop!" Calliope comes after me, and catches up with me at the door. I keep my face turned to the door because I don't want her to see me losing it like this, but she takes my shoulder and turns me around to face her.

"No, Arizona," she whispers, looking almost pained when she sees my face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… Please sweetie, don't cry!" she sounds completely distressed, and takes my face in her hands, trying to wipe away the tears that just keep on pouring out.

"I'm not crying, Calliope. I'm just angry," I sob. "I've really got to go now." I open the door and take off down her porch and up the drive to my car as fast as I can go.

**CALLIE**

I watch Arizona drive off, feeling so angry and at the same time so sad that I don't know whether to scream or cry. Inexplicably, the sight of tears spilling from Arizona's beautiful blue eyes fills me with pain, and it enrages me that she was humiliated in my house, courtesy of my sister. I walk back into the pantry, where Aria is still pacing up and down.

"You made her cry, Aria. What the hell?" I can barely get the words out because I can feel tears welling up in my own eyes. It seems unforgivable that Arizona, normally the happiest of people, should have been made unhappy by me, or one of mine. Aria narrows her eyes at me, scrutinizing my face. I've never been very good at hiding my emotions.

"Do you have feelings for this woman? Are you in love with her, Callie?" she asks wonderingly.

"Yes—no—I don't know! It's too soon to say—just butt out of my business, Aria, and get the hell out of my house!"

"I hope you know that daddy would disinherit you sooner than have you involved in a homosexual relationship." She seems to have calmed down, now that she's gotten rid of Arizona.

"I don't need his money, Aria. I can look after myself, and Owen and I are more than capable of bringing our kids up without any assistance from any of you."

"Really? Tell me that when you can't afford the latest Ferragamos, or to keep that designer wardrobe of yours."

"You can really be a bitch, you know. How did daddy even know Owen and I are getting divorced? We only spoke about it to each other on Friday, and since then I've only told Addison…and Arizona."

"Oh, so she knew you were just _thinking_ about divorce and had no scruples about jumping in to bed with you anyway. A class act."

"I told you, Aria. Don't speak like that about her." I'm getting tired of this.

"Allegra called to speak to daddy a few days ago, and let it slip that her mommy and daddy don't live in the same house anymore. Why are you putting your children through this, Callie? Don't you owe it to them to try and work it out with Owen? Did you really need to vent your frustrations and act out by sleeping with a woman?"

Aria thinks she's being so damn perceptive.

"Wow, when did you get your Ph.D in psychology? What else am I subconsciously repressing, doc?" I ask sweetly.

"You can be facetious at a time like this? You obviously need some counseling—did you and Owen try couples therapy?"

"Owen and I have been drifting apart for years. Neither he nor I _want_ to stay together anymore Aria, so couples therapy would pretty much be a waste of time." I didn't go into all the messy details of Owen's PTSD or his involvement with Yang; there was no reason to share that with Aria.

"Does this woman—"

"She has a name. _Arizona_."

Aria scoffs. "Arizona! Surely anyone with sound judgment would have changed that name as soon as they came of age! Does she even know that you have children?"

"Of course she does. She works at Seattle Grace—she's the head of Pediatric surgery, and she's seen my kids plenty of times." Now that she's put the idea in my head, however, it occurs to me that I've made an effort to keep Arizona's interaction with my children minimal. Something I'm going to have to think through carefully, especially since I plan on seeing a lot more of her.

"She's a surgeon? That blonde bi—" Aria's mouth is curling around the word when my palm makes stinging contact with her cheek. "Ow! What the hell?"

"I told you not to speak about her like that. You've called her a home-wrecker and a gold digger and insulted her in my home. And she's nothing of the sort! She's sweet and kind and… and…funny, and _adorable_, and she's kept me sane in the midst of all the chaos. And if you really want to know, I pursued her, not the other way around."

"You know I'm going to tell daddy, right?" She picks her handbag off the coffee table.

"I don't care what you do, Aria. Just leave me alone. And leave Arizona the hell alone."

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, she turns on her stilettos and marches out of my house.

_**Four days later**_

_**ARIZONA**_

"Aww, Flagstaff. Come on, don't cry. Tell uncle Nick everything."

"I'm not crying, Nick. I'm still so angry. I've never been so insulted in my life!"

"Yeah. No, not crying. You look really happy, as far as I can see."

I contemplate shutting my computer and getting rid of Nick's grinning face, but the need to talk to someone outweighs my annoyance. I've put up with Nick's irritating behavior since we were kids, and he's generally been known to give sound advice. Unlike my brother Tim—maybe it's a blessing in disguise that he can never Skype at a decent hour anyway.

"I've never seen you cry over a woman before, Phoenix. You must be slipping. Or she must really be something special. So come on, spill."

Sometimes I wonder if the rarefied air of Tibet has made Nick a bit soft in the head.

"I already _told_ you; Bedroom. Sister barging in. Insults flying. Retreating in panic and confusion… remember?"

"I meant tell me the real reason you've ignored your Calliope, who, if I remember correctly, you described as being _more beautiful than a renaissance painting _the last time we spoke."

"She's not _my_ Calliope." I say huffily. "But she _is_ beautiful, Nick. And her voice is like…this really sexy contralto—she could recite the phonebook and still keep you listening like she was speaking Shakespearean sonnets. And she's got these legs…" I don't notice the dreamy tone in my voice, or the silly smile on my face, but Nick does.

"Whoa there, Yuma. No need to go any further. I get it. She's a dish. You're still not telling me why you've been avoiding her."

"Nick, have you not been listening to me? She's going through a divorce. She's got kids! Three of them! What if I'm just some kind of rebound? And now I find her family is LOADED and Catholic and homophobic in the extreme!"

"You knew most of that before you slept with her, didn't you? About the divorce and the kids? I think the real problem here is the fact that you—the permanently unavailable, hot, _unattached_ lesbian—slept with a straight married woman with kids, thereby breaking all your "rules" in one fell swoop, and on top of that, you've developed um …tender feelings for her. Pshhh! Never thought the day would come, Scottsdale! Our Little AZ is growing up."

If I could reach into my computer screen and slap him upside the head, I would. "What are you talking about Nick? She's so not straight. She proved that to me over and over and…"

"Gotcha. No need to elaborate. You turned another straight girl, like you've done often enough before. So why the tears, Tucson? Could it be you have _feelings_ for her? Has Calliope managed to break through where others have failed?

Nick continues to tease me. Next to Tim, he can be the most infuriating, sophomoric, prattling _jackass_ in the world. And here I was thinking he could help me. It's been four days since I left Calliope's house, and I haven't answered any of her calls or texts, and have avoided her scrupulously at the hospital. And I've been miserable about it. I _want_ to see her. I _want_ to feel her arms around me again, I want to hear her voice, I want to so badly that it frightens me. That morning, Aria was completely out of line, but she snapped me out of my Callie-induced stupor, and made me think about what I was doing. What I was getting in to.

"Listen Arizona." The fact that he hadn't called me Flagstaff or Tempe or Yuma got my attention. "Does she like you back? Are you worried you're just some experiment to her?"

I think about Calliope's face before I left. How upset she'd been. The way she seems to know what I'm thinking, the way she sometimes kisses me, like I'm the most fragile thing she's held, the way she calls me "sweetie," without thinking, and then pretends she doesn't mean it…

"Yes," I tell Nick. "I think she does. Like me, I mean."

"And she's tried to contact you repeatedly, right?"

"Yes. She's texted, and called, and sh-she l-left flowers and doughnuts for me on the P-Peds floor!"

"Why is that something to cry about? She's taken the trouble to find out what you like, Yuma. I would be flattered. So you've not acknowledged any of it?"

"No," I barely whisper.

"The kids freaking you out?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. They're really cute kids, but… _kids_, Nick! But it's not just that... I don't want to be the one to drive a wedge between her and her family. As _nice_ as the one I met seems to be."

"Right, I'm going to say this only once, so you better listen real good. Your phobia of commitment was cute when you were in your twenties. Hell, I even sympathized with you after the number that Joanne did on you. But there will come a time in your life when you'll find you have nobody, Arizona, and all because you were afraid of loving someone, or even contemplating a life that wasn't hedonistic and selfish. Get over yourself. Callie is not asking you to parent her children. She has a soon-to-be ex-husband who can help her do that. But if you like her—and I can tell from looking at you, that you like her a hell of a lot more than you're admitting—then you've got to get on board with her kids. If you feel you have something special with your Calliope, then at least give it a shot. Don't be a coward, Phoenix. As for her family, she's a big girl, I'm sure she can deal with them. She seems to know what she wants."

I look at him for a long time, wondering just how he can manage to make the switch between jackass and Yoda so quickly.

"I hate it when you make sense, Nick," I finally say.

"That's my girl. I told you uncle Nick could help you. Now go call her back, alright?"

"I will. Love you, you jackass."

"Right back at you. Bye."

I close my laptop. My fingers hover over my phone. I'm impatient to call her, to hear her voice, yet afraid she'll hang up on me after I've ignored her for four days. Throwing caution to the wind, I dial her number. It rings, and rings, and rings, but she doesn't pick up. Way to go, Arizona. You've managed to alienate the one person who's actually meant something to you in more years than you can remember. I try again, but again there is no answer. I consider texting, but I don't want my first contact with her in days to be a text. Not after the way we left each other. There's only one thing left to do.

Disregarding the fact that it's almost 9 p.m., I get into my car and head for Callie's house, my mind whirling. I can't concentrate on the road, and it's by sheer luck alone that I find myself drawing up in front of her place in one piece. Now that I'm here, I don't know what I'm going to do. I sit in the car for a while, trying to steady my breathing. It doesn't really work, so I get out and make my way shakily up the porch steps. My hand looks like it belongs to someone else as it reaches for the doorbell… and presses. Here goes.

I wait for what seems like an eon, but is really only half a minute, before the door opens. Calliope stands in the doorway, looking tired. When she sees me, her face lights up for a second, but soon resumes a carefully neutral expression. "Arizona?" she says, her voice cautious.

"Calliope… I…er, I …" How do I do this? I can't even form words, let alone sentences.

"Yes, Arizona?" her voice is distant, guarded. She's not going to help me. I decide to take the plunge.

"I'm sorry Calliope, I've been an idiot…I was so mad that day, and I've been taking it out on you, and I've so wanted to see you and talk to you, but then I remembered what she said, and I've been _miserable _because I've been missing you…" Try as I might, I can't control the waterfall of words that comes spewing from my mouth.

Callie listens patiently until the torrent of words finally dries on my lips. Then she steps forward, closing the door behind her quietly. She comes within one foot of me, not saying a word, and I stand there, looking at her apprehensively.

"I want to tell you something, Arizona," She says quietly.

She wants me to get off her porch and go home. I'm so sure of it. "Y-Yeah?" I stammer nervously.

"You already know how I feel about the incident with Aria. I think I sent you enough flowers and donuts to keep the hospital whispering for weeks… I can't apologize enough for what she said to you. I know she freaked you out too. But there's something about me that you should know."

Here it comes….She's going to tell me it was a mistake. Oh God, let me dig a hole and crawl in to it…

"I have children."

Ummm, what? "I think I know this, Calliope."

"_Do_ you? Really understand that Arizona?"

I know what she's trying to tell me, and I'm glad Nick has already covered that ground with me. She goes on, "Because I don't do casual, Arizona. For so many reasons. I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression. I know it's too early to be telling you all this, but I think you should know before we get any deeper into this … because…" she pauses and flushes slightly, choosing her words carefully, "I like you. I know it's crazy…we haven't known each other long…and my situation is…complicated…but I don't want you to think I'm making use of you."

She lifts one hand and brings it to my cheek, holding me at arm's length. I close my eyes, turning my cheek into her hand. The next thing I know is the softest touch of her lips on mine, the lightest brush before she pulls back. I open my eyes to find her looking at me, a small hint of a smile on her lips, but she makes no attempt to kiss me again. I think I finally understand what she's not saying.

If I want her, I'm going to have to move forward. Literally. So I do. I take a step closer to her, my heart pounding in my chest, and another, ignoring an impulse to turn and flee. When I'm almost standing on her toes, I reach out tentatively, putting my arms around her. The moment my body makes contact with hers, the urge to flee melts away, and I find myself doing exactly the opposite. I hug her tightly, pulling her to me fiercely and holding on as if I'm afraid she'll disappear. Finally, _finally_ I feel her arms come up around me, and I get lost in the feeling I've been longing for since I left her on this porch a few days ago.

We stand there, wrapped up in each other, not moving, for at least five minutes. Then she releases me, takes my hand and brings me into her home.

"I missed you too," she says softly, closing the front door and locking it. "Come here." She pulls me back within the circle of her arms, "you are adorable when you ramble." A real kiss this time. One that has us gasping for air and grinding on each other very quickly.

"God, Calliope. I swear you're like a drug. One kiss and I want to take you upstairs and rip your clothes off."

"Take me to bed then," she says, nuzzling my ear, "but you'll have to be quiet, sweetie. My kids are here tonight."


	11. Chapter 11

**CALLIE**

Sometimes I can do really stupid things. And I have a feeling that Arizona must be feeling pretty much the same way right now. I have no idea how things went since I left her in my bed during the early hours of the morning. I was paged to do an emergency repair on a patient suspected of having acute aortic dissection, and have been in the OR ever since.

Scrubbing out at long last, after hours spent on my feet, I watch the water flow over my hands and smile involuntarily when I remember last night—she turned up at my door, all conflicted and contrite, looking ethereally fair with the moonlight leaching her of all color but the cobalt of her eyes. She looked like something out of Tolkien—one of those preternaturally beautiful beings with magical powers. At least, that's what it felt like to me, because as pissed off as I was about her ignoring me for days, the mere sight of her standing there, looking nervous and hopeful made me want to forgive her, no questions asked. And then she opened her mouth and made that rambling, stream-of-consciousness speech that I barely heard a word of—the only thing that registered was her saying she'd been miserable and missing me. The feelings were so entirely reciprocated, she had no idea. I was conscious, in that moment, of a strange rush of emotions I couldn't really identify, and didn't want to analyze. I felt the strongest urge to pull her to me and simply hold her, and it was with the utmost self-control that I waited till she came to me.

Of course we ended up in bed. There's something almost elemental in the sheer intensity of the physical attraction between us. It's something I've never really experienced with anyone else—the overwhelming desire I feel when we're together, almost uncontrollable, so strong that when her naked body moves with mine, everything else in the world ceases to exist and she is _all_ I can feel, and see and touch and taste. And I don't think that's all on my side either; she marked me quite unapologetically last night-on my inner thighs, my breasts, my neck. Not that I'm complaining. I found it indescribably hot—and when she settled between my thighs and bit down on me as if I was some kind of exotic fruit, I had to turn my face into my pillow to smother my cries. Later, when I moved on top of her and brought her legs up around my hips, she filled my room with the softly moaned syllables of my name. I think I could fall in love with the sound of my name, uttered with that particular cadence in her voice as she's coming undone in my arms.

My smile widens as scenes from last night play in my head. Meredith Webber, scrubbing out beside me, looks at me and says "You should be happy. You were incredible today Dr. Torres."

I was, actually. My encounter with Arizona had me on a high as it was, but this morning I saved a man's life and gave his wife back her husband, when he had been as close to dying as made no difference. Meredith Webber has become so much more tolerable since she fell off her pedestal and joined the real world. "Thank you Meredith. You did good work this morning," I tell her, feeling generous with my praise.

She beams happily at me and exits through the double doors, her ridiculously high pony tail swinging euphorically from side to side as she swaggers off. I need to be ready for rounds soon, but head off towards the coffee cart for a cup or three of coffee to sustain me over the next few hours. I wonder whether if it will be a good idea to get one for Arizona, but decide against it. I'm not quite sure she'll be happy to see me after I abandoned her early this morning.

Lying curled around her at 2 a.m., I was dismayed to hear my pager go off. I had to leave, and fast, for an emergent case. I called Owen immediately, to ask if he could take the kids, and found he had been paged to the hospital as well. Desperate, I tried his mother, but the phone rang for minutes with no at response. Anyway, I didn't really want to put her up at that hour. Finally, I decided that I'd have to take them with me, and maybe coerce a couple of interns into watching them. Through all this, Arizona had been watching me, a small frown on her face. She opened her mouth to speak when I tried Owen's mother, and then shut it, as if she'd thought the better of whatever she was going to say. When I voiced my idea about taking the kids with me, she spoke up.

"You know, Calliope, you do have another option." She looked a little uncertain, and plucked at the comforter nervously. "I could stay here till you get back…" she offered.

That thought never even crossed my mind. I hesitated. We had _just_ acknowledged that she had to deal with the fact that I had kids—did I _really_ want to leave her here, alone, so soon? Throw her in the deep end? It might just kill whatever we had between us before we even got started. Still, it was not as if I had much choice at the moment. I sat on the bed beside her, looking closely at her. She stared back, blue eyes a little defiant.

"Are you sure, Arizona?"

"Calliope," she huffed, "I may not be the most motherly person, but I think I can manage for a few hours. I deal with kids every day." I remembered how she had calmed Allegra that first day in the parking lot, and realized that she did know her subjects pretty well.

I got up to leave, then leaned down and kissed her. "Thank you, Arizona. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise." I turned to leave, and then another thought struck me. "Um, you can take anything you want from my dresser…there should be _something_ that'll fit! Sorry about your shirt!" Somewhere on the floor of my room, or maybe on the stairs, her blue button down shirt is lying, buttons scattered everywhere.

"Don't be sorry," she said, "You can rip off _all_ my shirts if you want."

I walk back towards my office, coffee in hand, engrossed in my thoughts. My patient had almost died three times on the table, and the surgery ran so long that I couldn't go back to release Arizona as I had promised. In desperation, I had called Owen and asked him to pick up the kids. He sounded faintly surprised when I told him that Arizona was watching them, but made no comment at that time.

Just as I'm about to enter my office I hear someone call my name. I turn around to see Owen striding towards me.

"Owen!" I call out in relief. "Did you pick them up?"

"I was pulled into a trauma in the ER," he says, as he comes closer, "But don't worry, I took care of it."

I walk into my office, and Owen follows me."What do you mean, you took care of it? If you didn't pick them up, does that mean they're still at home with Arizona?" Oh dear god. Not good.

"No, I asked Christina to get them," he says, quite calmly.

"You sent YANG? What were you thinking?" The man has finally lost his marbles. He sent Christina Yang, a woman who can put tiger sharks to shame, to pick up my babies. Suddenly I'm thankful that Arizona would have been there, at least.

"Callie, relax. Christina is not the inhuman automaton she likes everyone to think she is."

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you?" I return waspishly.

"Look, the kids are perfectly safe, Christina said they're in daycare now, everything's fine. The kids know her—she spent a little time with them over the last weekend."

I suppose it is inevitable. My children are going to have to get used to two homes, and if not Yang, then whichever woman Owen ends up with eventually. Yang is not the cuddliest of personalities, but at least I know she is an intelligent human being, who can be counted on to keep her head in a crisis.

"She said Robbins seemed to have the situation under control, anyway," Owen goes on, "I didn't know you were on such friendly terms with Robbins—I can't imagine how you got her to come over at two in the morning."

This is awkward. He is completely oblivious, and who can blame him? I figure now is as good a time as any to tell him.

"Um, well… Arizona came over earlier…you know, in the night, uh, she um, stayed over." I hope this information will get him thinking on the right track, but he stares at me blankly.

"Stayed over?"

I'm going to have to spell it out for him.

"Yeah, stayed over as in _slept_ over, uh…with me." I look at him hopefully, maybe _this_ has got through to him. He stares at me in confusion, brow furrowed. Then I see comprehension dawn in his eyes.

"You slept with Robbins, as in _slept_ with her?"

"Yes Owen! Slept with her. Had sex with her." I have to make it perfectly clear. "I've been seeing her… well, sort of." I don't really know how to describe what we've been doing. I wouldn't call it dating in the traditional sense!

"Robbins? Really?" He looks quite amazed, and doesn't speak for several seconds, processing the information while I wait on tenterhooks for an outburst. The outburst doesn't come. That's what I love about Owen, he's such a reasonable guy. Where my sister Aria ranted about hellfire and damnation and being disowned, Owen merely thought for a minute and said,

"You…you like women, Callie?" He looks genuinely puzzled. "I would never have … wow, _Robbins_? When did this happen?"

"Well, I don't know about _all_ women—but I do know that I like Arizona. I think I started seeing her in a different light around about the time we had that artificial lung kid. Riley."

"I…er, well, Robbins seems nice. I don't know her very well, Callie, but if this is what you want, you know I'll support you. I know you. I trust that you wouldn't expose our kids to anyone who was not … let's say, _important_ to you."

"Thanks, Owen." It's quite absurd, but I can't keep my voice from shaking. After Aria's condemnation, Owen's calm acceptance seems to trigger an emotional reaction. I can feel the tears gather in my eyes, and fall. Owen pulls me into a hug, and I wrap my arms around him and hold onto his reassuringly solid frame for comfort. While I have not really faced much of a dilemma in accepting my attraction to Arizona, I have felt rather alone in these, for me, uncharted waters. I suppose going through divorce, discovering you're bi-sexual and having your family metaphorically spit on you is a lot to take on alone, and I'm grateful that Owen is being so decent about it.

Just then there's a knock at the door, and it opens to reveal Arizona, holding two cups of coffee. She sees me enveloped in Owen's arms and her face blanches—her color actually drains, and she starts to back away, muttering an apology.

"Arizona, wait!"

"Robbins."

Both Owen and I speak simultaneously, and she stops for a moment. Owen drops his arms from around me and turns to face her.

"Dr. Robbins, I hope you didn't have too much trouble this morning. I'm sorry we had to put you through that."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," she says, coming back into the room reluctantly. She looks at me hard for a moment, and taking a hasty step forward asks, "Are you ok, Calliope?"

Owen takes that as his cue to leave. Thanking Arizona once more, and giving me a pat on the shoulder, he walks out, telling me I could always count on him if I needed support. Before he leaves, he turns and grins at me, mouthing "Calliope?" behind Arizona's back.

When he's safely out of the way, she comes closer to me, still holding her two cups of coffee. "I thought you'd like some coffee… but it looks like you already have some," she says, nodding to the cup on my desk. "What's the matter, Calliope? You look upset." She puts the cups down, and stands in front of me awkwardly. She's not the most readable where emotions are concerned, but I can see the conflict swirling in her eyes.

"I'm not upset," I tell her, "I just told Owen about us. He was really nice—it made me a little emotional, I guess, after the way Aria reacted."

She reaches out to me then, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, Calliope. I know this can't be easy for you," she says softly, kissing my temple and then my cheek. "And I'm sorry I made the last few days more difficult for you."

"Yeah, you sure know how to wound a girl's ego," I mutter into her shoulder.

"I'll make it up to you," she promises, "and if you would just turn your face a little bit, I could kiss you."

She doesn't have to tell me twice.

_**Earlier that morning**_

_**ARIZONA**_

I wake up suddenly, my heart hammering, disoriented for a minute. Not only am I not in my own bed, but there's a little girl standing next to me and regarding me solemnly. Then I remember…I'm in Calliope's bed, and she's not back yet after she left me in the early hours of the morning.

"That's my mommy's bed," says Allegra, accusingly.

"Yeah, Allegra, your mommy had to go to work early. Do you remember me?" I ask her, hoping to distract her from the fact that I was also wearing her mother's clothes—which, by the way, smelled deliciously of their owner.

She continues to give me the stink eye, and then gives a nod that turns into a shake of the head. I don't quite know how to interpret that.

"I'm Arizona. I'm friends with your mommy. Do you remember Mr. Bear?" The incident in the parking lot took place more than a month ago, and I'm not sure if she'll remember.

"Azzona," she says, frowning a little. And then "you didn't come to see me."

Ok, she's lost me now.

"See you where, sweetie?"

"I told mommy you were my friend, but you didn't come."

Ah. I see some light. I remember Calliope telling me her daughter was a rather smitten with me, but she never told me that Allegra had asked for me.

"I'm so sorry honey, I got really busy in the hospital," I say, shoving the comforter off and moving to sit on the side edge of the bed. "I would really, really like it if you would be my friend."

There's still no trace of forgiveness on her face. She looks at me with those soulful brown eyes that she's inherited from her mother, and then says, "Did Mr. Bear come with you?"

I think of the contents of my handbag, and realize that Mr. Bear will not be making an appearance this morning. He's safely in my locker at the hospital.

"I'm sorry, Allegra, Mr. Bear didn't come with me today." She looks disappointed, and throws me look that clearly says 'what good are you?'

"Do you think we could manage without him today? Would you mind if it was just me?"

She gives me a considering look, and then says, with a long-suffering sigh, "Ok, Azzona. You can be my friend again."

Wow. The second Torres girl I've had to apologize to and win round in the last 24 hours.

"Are your brothers awake?"

"Dunno. You wanna see?" She holds out her hand to me. "But soft, ok?" she says, holding one finger to her lips.

I take her hand and let her lead me to the twins' room. I open the door as quietly as possible and peek in. They're still fast asleep, and I close the door, quite relieved. How I'm going to get all three dressed and fed remains a mystery, so the longer the two boys stay asleep, the better!

"Would you like to show me your room, Allegra?" I let her lead me to her bedroom, which is beautifully decorated in pastel shades, and just below the molding on the ceiling runs a wide strip featuring Tinkerbell in her many moods, and swathes of glittering stars erupting from her wand decorate the ceiling and walls.

Allegra then shows me every princess and fairy she possesses, detailing their wardrobe choices and accessories. I'm suitably impressed, and she warms up to me considerably, allowing me to pick out her clothes and dress her. When I sit her down on her bed and kneel to tie her shoes, and she surprises me by leaning forward and patting my head.

"Pretty," she says, touching my hair admiringly. "Can you make my hair?" she asks hopefully.

"You know what," I tell her, "You've got the right person for the job." I end up braiding her hair around her head, plaiting in a bunch of little glittery hair ornaments she has got an inordinate number of on her tiny dresser. She's so pleased with the effect that she preens in front of her mirror proudly.

I figure it's about time to feed the little princess, when the doorbell rings, and a wail from the twins' room tells me that one of them, at least is awake. Finally! Calliope is back. I wonder why she doesn't just let herself in, but head downstairs anyway, Allegra at my heels.

"Did you forget your keys, Callio—" My words get stuck in my throat when I open the door to find Christina Yang standing there.

"Dr. Yang?" My face is twisted in an expression that says 'what the hell?' and Yang shrugs her shoulders.

"Dr. Torres' surgery ran long, and Owen got called into an emergency, so I'm the reinforcements," she says in her habitual deadpan way. She looks me up and down appraisingly, and I'm aware for the first time how I must look. I'm in one of Calliope's T-shirts, which is a size too big for me, and a pair of shorts which are almost invisible under the T-shirt, which keeps slipping off one shoulder. I'm patently bra-less, and my hair looks like I just rolled out of bed. Yang's usually deadpan face breaks into an uncharacteristic smile.

"Welcome to the dirty mistresses club, Dr. Robbins." She says insouciantly, as she breezes past me into the house.

"The dirty _what now_, Yang?" I splutter, turning a shade of red any beetroot would have been proud to produce.

"Oh, come on, it's alright. We know about you and Torres. Almost half the interns in the hospital saw her plant a wet one on you at Joe's last week. And if that is not enough, I have evidence a-plenty right before my eyes," she says, laughing, coming up to me and tapping my collar bone where the stupid T-shirt has slipped off again. Oh, God. I'm fairly sure Yang is pointing at a perfect and fresh impression of Calliope's beautiful mouth. Busted.

"Not judging!" she tells me, and turns to Allegra, patting her on the head. "Hey there Allegra, I hear your brothers howling. Care to point me in the right direction?"

"Hi Christina!" I'm surprised to see the little girl I had to work so hard to charm this morning taking Yang's hand trustingly and leading her up the stairs.

Christina turns and looks back at me. "Well, what are you waiting for? Diapers or breakfast?"

"Breakfast!" I gasp out gratefully. "Divide and conquer?"

"You read my mind. See, we dirty mistresses have to stick together. Oh, and there's a blue shirt, very similar to the one I saw you wearing yesterday, on the stairs here. And some buttons."

I never thought the day would come when Christina Yang and I found ourselves on the same side of _anything_. I guess miracles do happen.

xxx XXX xxx

When I walk into Calliope's office later that morning, with an offering in the form of coffee, my heart almost stops at the sight of her in Owen's arms. I feel physically ill for a moment, and start to back away. The intensity of my reaction shocks me, because I realize then that I cannot stand the thought, much less the sight of anyone else holding Calliope. If there were any bricks handy, Hunt would be out cold by now. I'm conscious of a horrible churning in the pit of my stomach, and my first thought is that she's getting back together with him.

They both call out to me as I back away, and when I see Calliope's face, I decide to hold off on running away to lick my wounds. She looks upset. I walk back in, and Owen thanks me for looking out for the kids this morning, and leaves very quickly.

Calliope tells me she'd just told Owen about us, and a feeling of relief washes over me. I don't know why I should feel so strongly about it anyway, he has every right to hold her, or comfort her. I just don't like it, and I feel sharp pangs of jealousy, because I'm painfully aware that _I_ want to be the one to comfort her. On top of it all, I'm guilty of having given her a really hard time this week, when I'm sure she was dealing with all sorts of crap from her family.

I put my cups of coffee down, and do what I should have done the moment I walked in, Owen or no Owen. I pull her into a hug, and the moment I have her close, the little knives of jealousy that have been digging into me melt away, and are replaced with a feeling of contentment. I realize I'm on dangerous ground—I've known Calliope for less than six weeks, and I'm pretty sure I'm falling for her with the speed of light. No other woman has made me feel light-headed and jello-boned with only a kiss, and we spend some time doing just that, until a slight cough draws our attention to a figure standing in the doorway.

Calliope looks up and breaks into a smile. "Addison! I thought you would be on leave by now," she says, still keeping a tight hold on me.

"I knocked, but it seems your attention was diverted," says Addison, coming in and shutting the door. "Hello, Arizona. I'm glad to see you two seem to have made up; Callie was becoming a nuisance."

"Gee, thanks Addison," Calliope raises one eyebrow, "I was kind of in the middle of something here."

"Yeah, I noticed," Addison comments. "Can you stop feeling her up for a minute? I want to ask you something."

Calliope drops one arm from around me, but keeps the other round my waist.

"I'll just get going then," I say. "I wanted to tell you that Yang brought the kids in today, and that everything's ok."

"Oh, you don't have to leave, Arizona. Callie, I just wanted to know if you would be my baby's Godmother."

"Addie. Of course, I'd be honored."

"Thanks Callie. That means a lot to me… Wait, did I hear you say that _Yang_ brought the kids in today?" she looks at me in astonishment.

"Yeah. Yang is full of surprises. You know, Calliope, she's really not that bad. We bonded over diapers and cheerios."

Calliope chokes on the sip of coffee she's taking, and Addison laughs outright. "That sounds truly magical," she says, her green eyes glinting in amusement.

"Anyway," I go on, "I have rounds now, I must get going…Calliope, I may not see you much over the next 24 hours, so I'm going to ask you now—can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

"As in a date?"

"You could say that," I say, and though I'm not a fan of PDA, I lean in and take my time about kissing her before I leave. "You can open your eyes now, Addison," I say as I walk out.


	12. Chapter 12

**CALLIE**

"Eyes on my face, Calliope."

I've been caught staring. Again. And this time, I don't even have the grace to blush. I tear my eyes away from her plunging neckline, the soft swathes of fabric falling in a narrow V to almost mid-chest. You can just about see a hint of the soft curves of her breasts when she moves and the material parts a little. The midnight-blue fabric contrasts starkly with her skin and the golden blonde hair that falls in loose curls around her shoulders. All in all, the effect is mesmerizing.

"What, was I drooling again?"

"Pretty much. Not the behavior I expected from you on our first real date." Her dimples pop cutely, and her eyes, made a shade darker by the color of her dress twinkle at me in amusement. "Like what you see?" she asks, doing her trademark little head-tilt.

"You shouldn't have worn that if you wanted me to behave," I say, as I lean forward over the space between us, "but it's not really the dress that's bothering me, Arizona, stunning though it may be. It's the fact that I know what's underneath."

"One would have thought then, that your curiosity might have been satisfied," she says, closing her lips around a spoon of chocolate mousse, and then shutting her eyes and groaning in appreciation. I swear, if the woman is trying to drive me insane, she's succeeding very well.

"I think 'satisfied' is absolutely the wrong word—that would imply being sated, and I'm so, so, far from being done with learning about what's underneath."

Her breath hitches for a moment, and when she looks at me, her eyes are even darker than before. It's a look I'm learning to recognize.

"You about done with that mousse?" I ask, my mind on one thing only.

"Yeah. Though I think we should get some to go," she purrs. "I have a way with chocolate mousse, Calliope, that's going to stand your hair on end."

That's the way she's been all evening. All sweet and innocent one minute, and dripping with innuendo and double entendre the next. I don't really know how I made it through dinner.

She drives us back to her place, and when she offers me coffee, I say yes, though I'm not all that interested in drinking coffee, and she knows it. I sit there, at her breakfast bar, thinking about the last time I was here, and the first time I kissed her. It really hasn't been so long since that day, yet I feel like my entire world has changed since then.

She comes to me, putting the mugs of coffee down on the counter. She doesn't hop up on the bar stool beside me, as I expected, but stands in front of me, her hands on my knees. Pushing my knees apart, she moves between them, slowly sliding her hands up the outsides of my thighs, drawing my skirt up. She leans into me, and I can feel her warm breath on my ear, my cheek, as her fingers inch their way upward.

"So you don't really want your coffee?" I murmur, as her lips hover over mine.

"Mmmm, I didn't want you to think I only brought you home to have my way with you," she says, kissing me. "But it seems I have very little self-control where you're concerned." Her hands have reached the curve of my ass, and she pulls me forward on the stool, sliding her hands back down my legs as I wrap them around her.

"You're a beautiful idiot," I tell her, holding her cheek in my palm while I kiss her, slipping my tongue past her lips, tasting her still faintly chocolatey mouth. "Don't you know that I've been wanting to strip you of this"-clutching a fistful of her dress in my hand—"from the moment I saw you at my door tonight?"

"I know, Calliope. So get your ass off that stool and get stripping," she says, taking my hand and leading me to her bedroom.

Xxx XXX xxx

"Calliope, stop. Stop. Please, stop." Well, _that's_ new. From what I know of her, 'stop' is not a word she uses much during sex, especially when she's on the verge of coming. The hand that's been tangled in my hair pulls my head back slightly.

"Did I hurt you?" Her thighs are tight about my head, trembling and tense. I move my hands from her hips, where they've been holding her steady, and place them on her thighs, moving them apart slightly.

"No! God, no," she pants, raising herself on one elbow and looking at me. "I need you to slow down, that's all. You've barely touched me and I'm about to come." She looks embarrassed. I find it unutterably cute.

"I don't see why that's a problem," I say, licking a long line up her centre as she collapses back on to the bed. "I'm going to take my time and tease you all night, so let's just think of it as taking the edge off, hmm?" She doesn't respond verbally, but her hand is back, tangled in my hair, pulling my head down. I take it as permission to go ahead. When my tongue circles her clit, her hips thrust up under my mouth, in a movement that is so urgent and needy that all thought save the desire to feel her come is pushed out of my head. She's more than ready, and it doesn't take more than a few firm strokes before she's bursting on my tongue, throbbing her release in my mouth. Her thighs are wrapped tight and trembling round my head, heels digging into my back as her hips buck under me. I wait until the last tremors of her orgasm fade before I move her legs off my shoulders and slide up her body.

Placing my elbows on either side of her head, I let my arms take the weight of my torso. Her eyes are closed, and for a moment, I study her face—she's wearing that beatific, post-orgasmic look that I'm starting to love—head thrown back, golden hair strewn wildly over the pillow, a flush of dark pink on her alabaster skin. As I watch her come down to earth, it crosses my mind that this look, this moment, is one that should only be mine to witness. It's a strange and revealing thought. I want her all to myself.

I stroke her cheek. "Hey…come back to me."

She opens her eyes at last, looking at me through darkened eyes still hazy with desire. She's nowhere near done yet. I lean down to kiss her, and she responds lazily, running her tongue over my lips, sucking gently on my tongue, tasting herself on me. Yet another thing that goes down on my list of things I'm not willing to share. Ever.

"Calliope. I don't think I've ever come that fast. I think I'm a little embarrassed," she says, bringing her arms up around me and smiling shyly. "That's what you do to me."

"I'm flattered," I say, kissing my way down her neck, "I like knowing I can make you lose control." I shimmy down a little, taking one of those pert, pink nipples between my teeth and biting down. She writhes under me, arching her back, humming her approval. I move my mouth to the full curve of her breast, sucking on the milky-white flesh until I leave my mark. Her hand comes up to the back of my head, stroking my hair in an affectionate gesture. She's amused at my need to constantly mark her. She tugs on my hair, pulling me back up to her so that she can kiss me again. I can sense the growing need in her kiss, and the way she moves her body underneath me. That first quick orgasm was just a prelude, apparently."I need you," she whispers in my ear, taking my hand and guiding it down her body, "Inside me, baby, please." _Baby_. It registers dimly in some part of my brain, along with another point to add to my list. That endearment should never pass her lips in reference to anybody but me. Unless they were really a baby, of course.

Xxx XXX xxx

"I think you missed a spot Calliope."

"Mmmm," I can't manage a lucid response. My mind and body are still recovering from Arizona's effort with the chocolate mousse. Let's just say that mind-blowing is a far from adequate description of what she can do with a cup of cold mouse and her warm tongue. Now she's leaning up on one elbow beside me, one leg tangled between mine, tracing her fingers in feather-light patterns over my breasts and stomach. We're in that blissed-out, exhausted, nonsense-talking state that follows hours of dirty-hot sex.

When I finally open my eyes, she's looking down at me with something so sweet in her expression that it startles me. Arizona is not quite as open about her feelings as I—though I'm beginning to read her moods fairly well. The moment our eyes meet, the look vanishes, and is replaced by a lazy smile. She moves her head from the hand which is cradling it, to my shoulder, turning her face into my neck and breathing in.

"You smell like sex," she says, her tone implying nothing but absolute approval. "And vanilla and chocolate…"

"Are you telling me I stink?"

"No,"she says into my neck, "fucked-all-night-Calliope is a scent I'm getting really fond of." I make another mental note on my list. Nobody but I should _ever_ have the pleasure of hearing post-orgasmic potty mouth Arizona. I wrap my arm around her waist to keep her close, and the hardcore Peds surgeon actually _snuggles_ into me like a kid. It's completely endearing, and she's not going to like hearing about it tomorrow."I want to say we need a shower, Calliope, but I don't seem to care right now."

My mind is shutting down and my eyelids seem to weigh a ton. "Five minutes," I say, closing my eyes. "Then I'll shower…"

_**next morning.**_

_**ARIZONA**_

"You look wiped out, sis."

"Uh, no, I'm good. Really good," I reply. With something like an 11-hour time difference and bad connections between Kabul and Seattle, it's not easy to stay in touch with Tim. If I'm lucky, he gets through to me sometimes on a Sunday morning.

"So tell me what's new with you… you get over your straight-girl crush?" Has it really been that long since I spoke to him?

"Oh, I wouldn't say over it, precisely," I say, smiling as I think of Calliope sleeping in my bed as we speak.

"Oh, God… tell me you didn't!" Tim's always been able to see right through me. "You did say straight _and_ married, right? "

"I did. I'm not even sorry, Tim."

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?"

"I've been seeing her. She's actually not married anymore …or rather, she's going through a divorce."

My brother's face grows serious. "Sis, please tell me you are not the reason that marriage is over. Didn't you say she's got kids? What's happened to you?"

"Seriously Tim! They'd been over for a long time. It had nothing to do with me… well maybe you could say I was some sort of catalyst, if at all…and if it makes you feel better, her ex-husband's with someone else too. When did your morals become so rigid?"

"What is 'seeing her' in Arizona-speak? You meet her for dinner and sex off and on?"

"What has gotten into you, Tim? Why do you care what I do with whoever I'm seeing?"

His face looks like my father's when he's particularly displeased with me. "I thought you understood that you don't mess with other couples, Arizona. Especially when there are children involved. "

"It's not like that. I'm not messing with her! And I told you, they were done before we…I'm not messing with her, Tim. I promise."

His face fills my computer screen, eyes searching my face. Then it breaks into a grin. "Seriously, where have you stashed my sister's body? I haven't heard you sound serious about any woman in ….well, since Joanne. And you know how I felt about _that_ one."

Just then, there's a thud and a curse from my bedroom. Calliope must have woken up. She is a greedy sleeper in every sense of the word. She hogs the bed, and sleeps with ferocious concentration, like even a second of precious sleep lost would be a disaster. I woke up this morning to find she had maneuvered me to the edge of the bed, lying spread-eagled on her tummy, with one arm flung carelessly over me. When I got out of the shower, she had migrated even closer to the edge, and I'm not really surprised to hear the muffled cursing coming from my room. She was so going to roll off.

I turn on my perch on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, where I've taken my computer so as not to wake her, and look in the direction of the bedroom.

"Oh, God. Now I know why you look wiped out!" Tim groans. "She's in there, isn't she?"

"Um, yeah she is," I can't help laughing at his face. "So be quiet, or be nice or I'm going to hang up on you."

"Arizona?" Calliope puts her head around the bedroom door. "Are you here?"

"I'm here, Calliope," I call out. "I'm just going to be a min …" But it's too late to stop her.

"I thought you'd done a bunk," she says, coming out of the bedroom, a sheet wrapped around her. She looks sleepy and beautiful and sexy as hell. "How long have you been up?" she asks, walking up behind me, sliding her arms around me and resting her head on my shoulder, eyes closed, lips pressed into my neck.

"I see you know my sister quite well already, if you thought she'd done a bunk," says Tim, observing Calliope with interest.

She starts as if I'd jabbed a 12-gage needle into her, and turns her face to my screen, her expression changing from sleepy to flabbergasted so quickly that it's all I can do not to giggle.

"Calliope, this is my brother, Tim. He tends to talk out of his ass, so don't take anything he says too seriously," I say, pecking her on the cheek.

"Uh, Hi" she manages to croak out, and she clutches the sheet more securely around her.

"Calliope. Hello," says Tim, waving at her. I wince at the sound of her name on my graceless brother's lips.

"Call me Callie," she says, peering at him from over my shoulder. "I, uh, I'm sorry I butt in, I didn't know you were on a call, Arizona."

"Oh, it's perfectly fine," Tim jumps in, "I would have been curious to meet the woman who's made my sister look like _that_, anyway."

"Your sister is beautiful whichever way she looks," she says, smiling at Tim.

He blinks a little, and I'm not surprised. When Calliope decides to turn on the charm, she's a devastating force, even when clad only in a sheet.

"Wow, Phoenix. She's smooth," he drawls, trying to regain his older-brother coolness, though I can see his eyes popping as he surveys Calliope, who's come out from hiding behind me. Even to me, that bare expanse of caramel skin looks sinful.

"Woah, Tim. Eyes front! Babe, I left a towel for you in the bathroom," I tell her as I turn her around and push her gently in the direction of the bedroom. She looks at me over her shoulder and gives me that million-watt smile.

"You getting rid of me?"

"No, Calliope, I just don't want my brother perving on you."

She laughs, and calls out "Bye, Tim. I'll talk to you when I'm more appropriately dressed."

When she's safely out of sight, I turn back to my computer.

"Close your mouth, Timothy Robbins, and wipe off that drool. That's _my_… er, my… Calliope," I stutter over the last bit.

"Sorry, sis, but your description did _not_ do her justice. And what's with the 'my… Calliope?' You afraid to call her your girlfriend? And please, tell me you're not going to settle for 'lover.'"

"I don't know, we haven't really talked much about it!"

"Yeah, you're too busy screwing! You should see your face when you look at her, Scottsdale. I've never seen you so transparent."

"Why, what's wrong with my face?"

"You look like you would take the stars out of the sky for her, to quote a cheesy song. Along with the sun and moon and any other heavenly body she had a passing fancy for. And talking of heavenly bodies…Wow! You sure know how to pick…"

"Shut up! I do not!"

"You do. I hate to break it to you, but you, Arizona Robbins, are ass over tit in love." He laughs, delighted with his own wit.

"Actually, you moron, I think I've realized that. It kind of hit me last night, somewhere between the chocolate mousse and-"

"Seriously, do you think I want to hear this?"

**Xxx XXX xxx**

**The next day**

"There's someone waiting to see you, Dr. Robbins." One of the nurses calls out softly to me as I walk towards my office.

"Really? I don't remember making any appointments—do you know who it is?"

She bites her lip nervously and nods. "It's Mr. Carlos Torres." My nurses are all up to date with what's been happening in my life recently. When I was studiously ignoring Calliope after Aria's tempestuous visit, they were the ones digging into the many boxes of donuts that made their way onto the Peds floor, and exclaiming over the flowers she sent me. Oh, and giving me lots of unsolicited advice as well. Most were ready to have me cave soon after the fist box of donuts arrived.

The news that Calliope's father is waiting for me is most unwelcome. Calliope's sister was horrifying enough, and I'm really not prepared for a shouting match with her father this morning. However, he's here now, and I might as well get this conversation over with since the man has flown three thousand miles to have this chat.

"Will you show him to my office, please Sarah?" I feel it would be best to speak to him in private, from my last experience with a member of Calliope's family.

"I'll be right here, Dr. Robbins," she whispers conspiratorially, "Just yell if you want me to come in. He's been known to throw people against walls!"

Gulp. "Th…throw people?"

"Yeah, like one time, when Dr. Torres was dating O'Malley…you know, the guy who threw himself in front of a bus? Mr. Torres threw him against a wall and threatened to kill him. It was a long time ago—before you started working here."

I'm touched that my nurses are rooting for me.

"Because he was dating Dr. Torres?"

"No, because he was cheating on her. " Well, if that's the case, I think Owen is far more danger than I am.

"I think I'll be fine, Sarah. Just show him in. And thank you," I say as walk into my office. A minute later, there's a tap at my door, and a distinguished looking older man, balding, and dressed very formally in a business suit comes in. He's tall, very straight, and has a very commanding presence. He reminds me a little of my own father.

"Dr. Robbins?" he says, coming forward. He doesn't hold out his hand. "I'm Carlos Torres."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Torres?" I keep my tone as neutral and polite as possible.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm here because I understand from my daughter Aria that you are …involved with Calliope. I have spoken to Calliope about my feelings on this matter, but if you know my daughter, you'll know that she's also stubborn to a fault."

"I don't see what you want me to do about it, Mr. Torres. Your daughter is a grown woman, and I said the same to Aria. She's capable of making her own decisions."

"Dr. Robbins, you look like a reasonable woman. If you care for my daughter at all, think about what a liaison with someone like you would do to her. To her reputation, her place in society, her faith, her family!" He's starting to get all riled up, and his volume goes up a notch with each statement. I can feel my heart begin to pound with that familiar sickening thump it likes to do when I'm faced with an antagonist. Still, the implication that I have no morals and values gets to me. When I respond, my voice is surprisingly steady.

"It seems to me your family's reputation and your name is all you really care about. Mr. Torres, my father is a Colonel of the United States Marine Corps. I may not have been brought up in the Catholic faith, but I was brought up with a set of values, just as Calliope was. I believe in honesty, and integrity, and fighting for what I believe in, and in being the best person I can be. If you look at the heart of any religion, you'll find those precepts are taught universally. I'm not some _aberration_." I'm trying to keep my temper, but he's making it almost impossible.

"Spare me the lecture, Dr. Robbins. If you don't care about Calliope's reputation, think about what you will do to her family. You've already caused a rift between her and Owen Hunt, do you really want to be responsible for severing ties between her and her parents, her sister, her aunts and uncles? Don't you know how much that's going to hurt her? Do you want her children growing up not knowing their grandparents, or their aunt? Can you really be that selfish?"

I don't know Calliope's family, but I know my own. If my parents disowned me, if Tim never spoke to me again, I know I would want to curl up and die. Am I going to be responsible for cutting her off from her roots? I cannot answer Mr. Torres at once, and I can feel that familiar bubble of resentment rising in my chest.

"Dr. Robbins, how do you think Calliope will manage without the substantial financial support she gets from me? Do you want to deprive her of the comfort of the lifestyle she's got used to? Do you know how much Calliope spends on clothes alone? Do you think she'll be happy with you when she has to think twice before buying herself the latest perfume, or designer shoes or whatever it is that catches her fancy?"

I can't answer him. I can't trust myself to speak because that bubble of anger has risen to my throat and is constricting my larynx. I want to tell him that if he knew his daughter, he'd know she wasn't as shallow as that.

"If you have any feelings for her at all, Dr. Robbins, shouldn't you put her first? Wouldn't you sever your connection, for _her_?"

Resentful tears are pricking my eyes, and I'm fighting to get control of my voice. "I _love_ Calliope. I would _never_ do anything to hurt her, and I would always put her first. And that includes respecting her as a person and her right to make her own decisions. I think you should leave now."

He takes a hasty step towards me. "Dr. Robbins, do you know who you're tangling with? I—"

Whatever he's about to say is abruptly cut off when my office door bursts open, and Calliope herself storms in. She looks from me to her father, taking in his furious face, and my apprehensive one. She strides up to me, putting an arm around my shoulders protectively.

"Daddy? How _could_ you?" And I can't follow a single thing from then on, because she launches into a stream of Spanish. Halfway through her rant, she releases my shoulders, and starts pacing up and down, hands gesticulating as she made her points. Mr. Torres tries, but can't get many words in edgeways. Finally, he puts his hands up in a gesture that says "enough."

"I think you've made yourself abundantly clear, Calliope. I hope you understand the consequences of your actions."

"I understand that you're small-minded and hidebound, daddy. And if you think I have no place in your world anymore, then maybe it's for the better."

"Think about what you're doing. What you're losing. And for what? A pretty face? Momentary gratification?"

Calliope looks at me, and comes back to put her arm round my waist and draw me to her side. "This is Arizona, daddy. _Look_ at her. She's brilliant, and beautiful, and funny and compassionate and she saves tiny humans for a living. And she makes me _happy_. How many people you know can you say that about? Why would you not want me to be with someone so incredible?"

"I think the answer is obvious, Calliope." Mr. Torres' tone is dry.

"Then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other."

"Right. I hope you don't live to regret this. Goodbye, Calliope." With that, he turned and walked out of my office.

Calliope pulls me into a hug as he leaves. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she says, rubbing her hands up and down my back. "I came as soon as I could."

I want to ask her how she even knew he was here, because he'd obviously come with the intention of ambushing me. But I find I can't speak. The moment she pulls me close, that bubble of anger that's been stuck in my throat seems to burst out of my mouth in angry sobs. Real, heaving, body-wracking sobs.

"Hey…oh God. Arizona?" She tries to pull my face away from her shoulder, but I'm having none of it. I'm far too embarrassed to look at her, and all my powers of concentration are directed towards getting the stupid crying under control.

"Please sweetie. Don't do that," she pleads, stroking my hair. "My dad's a bully, he's not used to not getting his own way."

"_You think_?" I manage to gasp out.

"That's better. Now enough with the tears, you're going to make me cry too."

"I'm not crying, Calliope," I mutter into her shoulder.

"No, of course not," she says soothingly. "You're just taking a bath."

That makes me smile, and I raise my head from her shoulder. She wipes her thumbs over my cheeks and under my eyes, and then reaches for the box of tissues on my desk, pulling one out and handing it to me.

"Wipe your nose, babe."

"I have issues with figures of authority…" I explain, wiping my nose and cheeks. "I cry when I get angry. It's embarrassing, and I can't control it."

"It's one of your more endearing flaws," she says, rubbing my cheek with the backs of her knuckles.

"Did you really mean those things you said about me?"

"Every word, Arizona. I wanted to add that you're _dynamite_ in the sack as well, but he'd had enough for one day, I think."

"Yeah, no need to push it. How did you know he was here?"

"Yang. She's been hovering around the NICU for days, waiting for news of a donor heart for your patient… she saw my dad on her way in. I'm actually surprised she bothered to give me a heads up. How come Yang is looking out for you?"

"I told you. We've bonded. Actually, your two residents and I are part of a very exclusive club. The dirty mistresses."

I thought she'd find it funny, but she looks upset. "I don't want you to think of yourself like that. _I_ certainly don't. I've _never _seen you in that light…I don't ….. Arizona, I _care_ about you. Do you really think I see you as some sort of plaything? Is that how you see _me_?" She takes my face in her hands and looks straight into my eyes. So strange and sweet, that funny sensation fluttering somewhere in my chest. She has no idea that I would, as my brother put it, take the stars out of the sky for her.

"Calliope. You basically just told your father to cut you off. For _me_. I think I know you're not playing with me. And as for myself, I would like to remind you that your sister Aria offered me millions to relinquish my hold of you." I grab the lapels of her lab coat and hold tight. "And as you can see, I haven't relinquished anything." I pull her close, kissing her hard.

"I don't want you to see other people," she says in a rush, words tumbling out of her mouth the moment I pull back.

"I haven't been, Calliope. Why, have you?"

"No, of course not. What I'm trying to say is, uh, I know we haven't talked about this…but maybe it's time we did, you know…" she stumbles and stutters over the half-formed sentences, red in the face. "Help me out here, Arizona!"

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Calliope?"

"Yes. Yes I am. I want to make it absolutely clear that I want us to be exclusive, together, whatever you want to call it. Nothing 'open' about the relationship. And yeah, maybe I should call you my girlfriend, though that term isn't one I'd choose—what are we, in highschool or something—but it's the only one that is appropriate for the moment, so yeah. That's what I'm asking…and I know you might think it's a bit soon, but…" She has to stop talking because I cover her mouth with my hand.

"Calliope Torres. Be quiet. You can use whatever the hell term you want. But the answer is yes. I thought that would have been plain to you by now."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thank you, everyone who continues to read and review. It's so great to get your feedback. I'm sorry I've taken a while to update—real life getting in the way! For those of you who are craving little more drama, I'm sorry, this fic is not going to be too angsty. I'm saving the drama for another story! So, on with the fluff :)

_**Two months later**_

_**CALLIE**_

Addison looks like hell. Her normally exquisite exterior has taken a severe beating. Her eyes are bloodshot and tired, her gorgeous red hair is knotted up on her head in a messy bun, and looks more than just a little greasy. Most significantly, she's wearing a robe that I will bet good money she hasn't got out of in a couple of days.

"Wow Addie. Give me my godson, and go take a shower!" I tell her, holding out my hands for the little bundle that is William Marcus Sloan.

Addison is only too ready to relinquish the adorable little guy, who seems to have singlehandedly reduced one of the most formidable women I know to the hormonal, lactating, temperamental mess standing before me. She heads to the bathroom without another word in my direction.

"Well, your mother's really grouchy today, isn't she, little guy?" I tell him as I make my way into her living room. "You been keeping her up all night?" He gurgles happily at me, the picture of a contented baby, and nothing like the red-faced monster with a megaphone stuck in his larynx that Addison described a little while ago. I look around the apartment that is conspicuously devoid of any sign of Mark Sloan. "Where's your philandering daddy then, huh?" I coo. "Where's the no good, junkie-tail chasin' horn dog got to, little man," I babble softly, and he smiles toothlessly back at me, his large blue eyes looking trustingly up at me. The limpid blue gaze reminds me of another set of blue eyes I am extremely fond of, and I let out a huff of frustration. My girlfriend can be really irritating sometimes.

Addison takes her time in the shower, and I sit in her living room with William, having a one-sided conversation about my latest surgery and thinking about Arizona, and last night's disastrous meeting for drinks with her friends. I think I'm a fairly well-educated, open minded, articulate woman, yet I've never been made to feel more stupid or awkward in the space of a few hours, nor have I ever been the butt of so many jokes and snide remarks. As I mull over my last words to Arizona last night, Addison comes into the room, looking much more human.

"Callie, if you want a drink, or coffee or anything…will you please fix it yourself? You know where everything is," she says plopping ungracefully down on the sofa.

"I'm fine, Addie. I can get you some if you want though."

"No, I'm good," Addison looks deeply disappointed, "I've already had my quota for the day." She looks at me for a moment, and then, with a characteristic lift of the eyebrow, asks "So where's Dr. Sunshine? I thought you'd bring her along—you two seem disgustingly happy together. And I mean, truly vomit-worthy."

"Huh. Arizona is busy." It's hard to mask my disgruntled tone, or sound anything other than mad. Addison's green eyes light up with interest, and her eyebrows climb towards her hairline in anticipation.

"Do tell. Why do you sound like you'd like to give her a swift kick up the backside? Not that I'm complaining, mind-for weeks you've been looking at her like she's the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and believe me, I was getting tired of it. What has Perky McSunshine done to deserve your wrath?"

"We sort of had a fight. About nothing, really. It's silly."

"Callie, I am confined to my apartment, my son's idea of entertaining his mommy is to either poop or puke, and Mark Sloan's conversation has been less than stimulating of late. He spends his time babbling with William, and while I'm grateful that he dotes on his baby, I am slowly going insane for the want of some adult company! So tell me, however stupid it is…what did your girl do that has got you looking like a stormcloud?"

"We went out for drinks last night. With her friends."

"Ah…well, that sounds fairly innocuous."

"I thought it would be too. They seemed nice enough. There were three of them, three women, and two of them were a couple. Did you know Lesbians are part of some secret society? They have this whole sub-culture thing going, with code words and everything. I felt like an idiot all night!"

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, I got the distinct feeling they were judging me for having a long history of sex with men, and for another, they kept laughing at me!"

"God forbid they should laugh at you!" says Addison, smiling.

"It's not funny, Addison! And I think I could have put up with it if Arizona hadn't joined them!"

"Pshh. Not a good move. I must remember to tell her you're a bit sensitive about your dignity."

"Whatever, Addie. Do you know she's a gold-star lesbian?"

"Gold star? What, like a really, really good lesbian? Or one who's super good in bed?"

"Huh. You'd think, wouldn't you? Though she _is_ really good in bed. God, she's fall on the floor, forget your own name and die coming good. When she's with me, I swear, it's like I'm swimming in my senses and have no mind at all. The other night, she…"

"OK, stop right there." Addison covers her ears dramatically. "No need to give me details, especially since I've not had sex in months, Callie. Months. You were telling me about the gold star?"

"It means she's never had sex with a man."

Addison looks at me with her mouth open. "What, _never_?"

"Yeah. Not once. Never had a boyfriend. Shudders at the thought of penis. Last night was all about learning what a newborn I am."

"Wow. But Robbins is so attractive…she seriously didn't date a _single_ guy?"

I can't help but smile."She's super hot, isn't she? Just so frickin' beautiful. But no, no guys."

Addison looks at me, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes Callie. She's _super_ hot, and her vocabulary seems to be rubbing off on you!"

I shrug ruefully. Arizona's generally cheerful demeanor _has_ rubbed off on me, and my kids simply adore her. Allegra, especially, seems to think she hangs the moon and stars, and the twins flirt outrageously with her.

"Yeah, sometimes I even catch myself saying '_awesome_.'"

"I think it's sweet, _Calliope_. You blush every time she says your name a particular way."

"Well, you would too, if you've heard the way she says it when she's—"

"Stop right there!" Addison looks horrified. "Not in front of my son! And that's not what I meant anyway. When she says your name it sounds like she's saying 'darling' or 'sweetheart,' and I think you know it. There you go, blushing again."

I laugh, but I understand what Addison means. Arizona does have a way of saying my name as if it is a term of endearment.

William has, in the meanwhile, settled down to sleep in my arms, and resembles nothing more than an angelic cherub. "I'm quite sure he didn't get any of that, Addie. He's fast asleep."

"He's sleeping?" Addie's eyes suddenly fill with tears. "You mean it?"

"Yeah," I respond, biting back a laugh. Addison's mood swings are just a little unpredictable these days.

"Oh, sweet God in heaven." Tears are pouring down her cheeks. "Please Callie, go really quietly, _really_ quietly to his crib and put him down?"

I tip-toe out of the room with my godson, and lay him down in his crib, where he settles down with a small murmur. I wait for signs of wakefulness, but he's out. When I return, Addison has somewhat composed herself, though she still looks a little teary.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happens—they just spring out without any warning," she apologizes.

I sit next to her on the sofa and pull her into a hug. The poor woman is obviously overwhelmed, and I so completely sympathize with her. When my twins were born, I think I would have lost my mind if Owen hadn't been such a loving and supportive father. And husband, I suppose.

"It's not easy, what you're doing. Whenever you need someone, Addie, just give me a call." She nods into my shoulder, and we sit there for a while, not speaking.

"You're lucky," she says finally, and for once, she's perfectly serious. There's no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"Lucky, yeah. I signed my divorce papers yesterday, my kids live in two homes, and my family has disowned me because I'm dating a woman." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. My divorce, at least, was inevitable, and I can accept that. But my family has been studiously ignoring me for about two months now, ever since my father's extremely ill-judged attempt to persuade Arizona to let me go for my own good. My father and I have always been particularly close, and I haven't really let anyone see how much it bothers me, or how much I miss him.

"No, Callie. I meant that you're lucky to have found someone who loves you. Never mind the rest of the shit." Addison lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me, her green eyes showing nothing but sincerity.

"Do you think she loves me, Addison?"

"Callie, you are a blind, blind woman. She's so openly in love with you."

"She's never said so, though." But just hearing it from Addison makes me break into a grin.

"Does she need to? Have _you_ told her anything? Because believe me, your emotions are as clearly written on your face as if they were stamped there in ink. Your status as a badass takes a severe hit every time you look at her like she's the center of the universe. So maybe you should get a little perspective, and see the big picture. What's a couple of hours of being the butt of a few jokes, compared to how she makes you feel every day?"

"Look at you, giving sound motherly advice. Don't worry, Addie. I'm just temporarily pissed off, that's all. It's hard to stay mad at her for long."

Addie's eyebrows are working again. "Well, good. That commitment-phobe has been seen around the hospital with _your_ children, looking for all the world as if they were her own. That alone should tell you something."

"Believe me, I know how good she is with them."

There's a knock on the door, and Mark Sloan stands in the doorway a moment later. The man is sexy as hell, and his very crassness is what gives him charm. He's as unlike Derek as you can get, and I don't for a moment wonder what Addison saw in him. He is undeniably, irresistibly appealing—that is, if you didn't already have a girl who made your head spin just by saying your name.

"Hello, gorgeous," Mark comes swaggering in. "Did you come to see my staggeringly good-looking son?"

"I did, Mark," I respond. " And to keep his mother company for a while. Those staggering good looks are quite obviously inherited from her, don't you think?"

"Oh, sure. I wouldn't expect you to appreciate the true wonder that is Mark Sloan when you're wrapped up in Blondie."

"She has a name, Mark. And she knows how to hit, so I wouldn't call her that to her face. Listen, Addie, I've got to get back to the hospital. I'll come see you real soon, ok?" I hug Addison once more before I leave her apartment, giving Mark the best dirty look I can muster.

**ARIZONA**

This is really not the way I planned on spending Friday evening. Still, Calliope was so angry with me last night that I don't think any plans I made would have panned out anyway. I guess my friends were a little abrasive—goodness knows they really pitched into me when I told them I was dating a married woman with kids. Foolproof recipe for disaster, they kept telling me. Not that I didn't know that myself, before I met Calliope. It's just that she seems to have swept every pre-conceived notion, every bit of conventional wisdom out of my head and heart. She has completely turned my life upside down, peopled it with children, shaken it with terrifying parents and siblings, and still, the only thing that matters to me is that she is part of it. Turning my world rightside up again would mean absolutely nothing unless she was in it. I don't think my friends understand that.

So here I am, cleaning up after Allegra has vomited all over me, upset mostly because she's distressed and crying for her mommy, and not because I was directly in the line of fire when a projectile vomiting incident occurred. I was paged to the daycare center just as I was getting ready to leave the hospital after a long shift. Allegra was ill, running a temperature, crying for her mother and refusing to go home with Owen, who was standing there, carrying the twins and looking a little helpless. She threw herself at me with a cry of "Zona!" as I came in, climbing up me like a little monkey and wrapping her arms round my neck. She refused to let go, sobbing into my neck and asking for Calliope. No amount of coaxing from Owen had any effect, and finally, he asked me (looking embarrassed and apologizing profusely) if I'd mind taking her home and waiting with her till Callie finished with her surgery. He left with Alex and Aidan, looking more than a little hurt at his daughter's defection.

After I have cleaned up the mess in Allegra's room, and given her a bath, I take a really quick shower and rifle through Callie's clothes for something to wear. "Zona?" A plaintive cry comes from Allegra's room. Hastily tying my hair up, I make my way there to find her sitting on her bed looking as if she's about to hurl again.

"Hey, baby girl, do you need to throw up again?" She nods tearfully, holding out her arms. I pick her up and make a dash for the bathroom. I don't have enough time to even grab a bowl, and have to hold her while she heaves over the toilet. Rookie mistake. Next time I'll know to keep a bowl at the bedside, just in case.

I wipe Allegra's mouth and face and take her back to her room, clinging to me and sniffling dolefully. She refuses to let go, settling into my lap and resting her hot little head on my chest as I sit on her bed.

"Zona, you gonna sing for me? Mommy always sings to me when I'm not feeling good. "

Uh oh. I can keep a tune, but singing is definitely not my forte, and my repertoire is woefully thin. Still, she's looking at me like a lost puppy, and I can't say no to those deep brown eyes that look so much like her mother's.

"Um, sure sweetie. I'll sing, if you take a little sip of water now, ok? And remember, I can't sing quite as good as your mommy."

"S'ok, nobody can sing as good as her."

So I suck it up, and do my best Kermit imitation.

"Why are there so many songs about rainbows  
And what's on the other side?  
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,  
And rainbows have nothing to hide.  
So we've been told and some choose to believe it  
I know they're wrong, wait and see.  
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,  
the lovers, the dreamers and me."

"That's a nice song, Zona. Can you teach me?"

"Yeah baby. Have you seen the muppets?" I guess that's a silly question. The muppets were more a part of my childhood, I suppose, and must seem rather dated to kids nowadays. Still, Allegra seems to like the Rainbow Connection very much, because she sings with me for at least twenty minutes before she starts to nod off, and I persuade her to keep quite a few sips of water down between verses. I move to lay her down on her bed, but she wakes up, wraps her arms round my neck more firmly and refuses to budge, so I sit back against the bed head and put my feet up, cradling her in my lap.

"Sing, Zona." She mutters sleepily. So I do.

"Who said that every wish would be heard and answered  
When wished on the morning star?  
Somebody thought of that  
And someone believed it,  
And looks what its done so far.  
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing?  
And what do we think we might see?  
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,  
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

All of us under its spell,  
We know that it's probably magic..."

This time she doesn't join me, but sinks deeper and deeper into sleep as I repeat the song as many times as it'll take to keep her quiet. My eyes are half-closed too, and my voice has just about gone hoarse when another voice takes over, a voice that's soft and warm and rich and indescribably beautiful.

"Have you been half asleep  
And have you heard voices?  
I've heard them calling my name.  
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?  
The voice might be one and the same.  
I've heard it too many times to ignore it,  
It's something that I'm supposed to be.  
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,  
The lovers, the dreamers and me."

I know it is Calliope, though I've never heard her sing before. The experience is magical. Her voice is exquisite, miraculous—wrapping me in ephemeral strains of melody that steal the very breath from me. As the last notes of the song fade away, I open my eyes to see her leaning against the doorjamb, looking at me with naked emotion in her eyes. I can't seem to tear my eyes away from her, and we simply look at each other for what feels like hours before she steps softly into the room and approaches the bed. She stoops over us, putting one hand on Allegra's forehead to check if she has a fever, while the other caresses my cheek briefly. Then she quietly picks her sleeping daughter up, disentangling her arms from around my neck and allowing me to get off the bed. I stand beside her as she lays Allegra back down, smoothes her pillow and pulls her comforter up around her.

"How is she?" she whispers, touching Allegra's forehead once more, tucking a stray ringlet behind her ear.

"It's a stomach bug. A few kids in the daycare were sick as well. Her fever has come down a bit, but there was a lot of throwing up a while back," I reply. "She'll be fine in a couple of days. You know what to do."

"Are you sure it's gastroenteritis?" When I nod, she takes my hand and leads me out of the room.

Outside, I'm enveloped in a fierce hug, one that I return with fervor. "I'm sorry," she whispers, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and with each apology she kisses me—my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, my lips. "I'm sorry I yelled at you last night, Arizona. And thank you for taking care of Allegra."

I put my hand over her mouth to shush her. "Shhh. Calliope, I have sung myself hoarse for the last hour. I forgive you for yelling at me, but I will be really mad if you wake Allegra." With that I move away from the open door of Allegra's room and head in the direction of Calliope's bedroom, pulling her after me. Once we're inside I head over to her bed and flop down, feeling quite exhausted. She comes to sit beside me, looking down at me and taking in my attire with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Calliope, they're yours. I had to borrow some clothes because your daughter threw up on me."

She looks mortified. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't make it any sooner! I got a message from Owen, saying she was sick, and with you. I don't know why he didn't take her with him."

"She refused to go. I think he was a tiny bit mad about it."

"Allegra is clingy when she's sick. I'm not surprised she wanted to stay with you—she's comfortable with you now."

I have noticed, actually. And it frightens me how fond of her I'm getting—how much _all_ Calliope's kids have grown on me. "I'm glad she can feel that way with me, Calliope. By the way, can I say that you have the most incredible voice I've ever heard? What can I do to make you do that more often? Just name it!"

She smiles, amusement glinting in her eyes and etched in the line of one raised eyebrow. Her fingers find the gap between my tank top and yoga pants, ghosting over my tummy and tickling their way up. Then she leans down and whispers in my ear, deliberately provocative, "For you, babe, I'll consider payment in the form of sexual favors."

"You get those anyway, Calliope. But if that's what you want, I'm not complaining." I reach my hand up behind her neck and pull her down for a kiss. "You know you only have to _look_ at me a certain way…"

"I know," she says, laughing into the kiss. "I enjoyed watching you squirm yesterday at Ellis's meeting. When she starts getting particularly obnoxious I let my mind wander over more…_pleasant_ things." She says, letting her hands wander over my body. Calliope is definitely not shy about showing her desire, or asking for what she needs, but she draws back after moment, before things can get too heated. Both our room door and Allegra's are open, and she could wake up and need me anytime.

"Sooo, quite the muppets fan, aren't we,?" Calliope says, after a long pause.

"Look who's talking. You knew the third verse. Even I don't know that bit!" We laugh over our predilection for muppets for a minute, and when the room goes quiet, I tell her I'm sorry I laughed at her last night.

"I'm a little thin-skinned," she says, "I'll get over it. You can laugh if you want-I can't stay mad at you. Not after you've battled vomit and fever for me, and sung yourself to a standstill, and _especially_ not when you're bra-less under my tank top."

"My bra suffered the same fate as my shirt. Death by vomit."

She wrinkles her nose. "You keep piling up the debt, sweetie," she says, and then stands up and heads to her dresser very decisively. She opens a drawer and unceremoniously dumps its contents in the drawer below, and then turns to me.

"That's yours. I'm sorry I didn't think of it before-I guess I can be a little obtuse sometimes. Of course, if you left it to me, you'd be unclothed most of the time and minus underwear _all_ of the time, but I guess you'll need to keep some stuff here if you don't want to shock my kids or keep using my clothes." She comes back to the bed and holds her hand out to me. "I'm going to die of starvation unless I eat now. Do you want any dinner?"

"I could eat a horse," I reply, grinning at her. "As for the drawer, Calliope, I'm a little relieved. Apart from the fact that I wear your clothes so often that you've got a good collection of your own stuff at my place—and that's a little unfair—I was beginning to think you wanted to keep your options open where I'm concerned." I'm joking, but she doesn't seem to find it funny.

"Arizona," she says, pulling me up off the bed to stand beside her, "You have never been an _option_ for me."

Xxx XXX xxx

Neither of us felt like cooking anything, so we end up ordering Chinese take-out and sitting in front of the TV in the living room, watching Casablanca at my request. Halfway through the movie, when Ilsa Lund fails to show up at the train station, Calliope reaches out and pulls me into her lap, wrapping her arms around me and pulling my head down on her shoulder. It's a strangely comforting gesture, that is at the same time both possessive and protective.

"I wouldn't do that to you, sweetheart," I tell her reassuringly. "Wait and see though. She had a good reason." She tightens her arms around me and shushes me as the luminous beauty of a young Ingrid Bergman fills the screen again.

When the end credits roll, she mutes the TV. "You're right. She's beautiful! How come I've never seen this movie before?"

"It's a classic, Calliope. I've watched it over and over—though most of the time I'm just looking at her! I guess your idea of 'classic' only goes as far back as Star Wars?"

"You're not dissing Star Wars, are you? Because I think I might have to throw you off my lap!"

"Of course not. Besides, who could deny the greatness that is Princess Leia in the gold bikini?"

She laughs in agreement. "I can't remember the last movie I saw that was in black and white. You're a little nerd at heart, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged. My parents have a huge collection of old movies—that's where I found Ingrid Bergman… oh, and Grace Kelly—you've got to watch a few of those!"

"Bring them on. I want to see who else the young Arizona was crushing on!"

"Sure. So long as my place right here is reserved," I say, indicating my position in her lap. Calliope laughs again, picking my hand up and bringing it to her lips.

"Well, I don't make a habit of cuddling—yeah, I'm sorry, but that's what we're doing—random strangers, so I guess it's safe to assume your place is reserved," she says, kissing each finger, and then my palm. "Make yourself at home."

"I have," I say, offering my other hand for similar treatment. She complies, and in that moment, I want so badly to tell her that I'm out of my mind crazy in love with her, but the vibrating of her cell phone cuts me off and penetrates the comfy cocoon we've wrapped ourselves in. She leans forward to pick it up, and then seeing the caller ID, rejects the call.

"It's daddy," she explains.

"Don't you want to see why he's calling?"

Just then, there's a cry from upstairs.

"Zona!"

I leap off Calliope and head for the stairs.

"Arizona, wait! You don't have to go, I'll handle it," Callie gets off the sofa.

"It's fine, Calliope. I can take care of her. Besides, she's calling for _me_," I say with a grin as I run up the stairs. Her phone begins to ring again as I leave.

It takes a while to get Allegra back to sleep. She's cranky and warm, but doesn't throw up again.

When I finally crawl into bed beside Calliope, she's wide awake. "I answered the call," she says. "My dad's coming to see me tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 14

CALLIE

The clock on my nightstand says it's 4:55 a.m. I've been awake for about an hour, and try as I might, I can't get back to sleep. I checked on Allegra a little while ago, and found her sleeping soundly; still a little warm, but looking much more comfortable. My mind is running on an incessant loop, and closing my eyes and counting sheep, concentrating on my breathing, going through my least-favorite arias in my head, has not blocked out the thoughts clamoring to be heard. My father wants to meet me. Today. I can't help feeling hopeful that he might have come to his senses, but part of me is dreading that his arrival will cause yet another unpleasant scene with Arizona. She's already had too much to deal with where my family is concerned. Both her run-in with Aria, and her meeting with my father left her in tears, and that is something I will never stand for again. I would rather be ten times disowned, than have her shed one more tear for my sake.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head." Her voice is sleepy. I feel the mattress shift as she pulls herself to my side, wrapping an arm around me and laying her head on my shoulder, turning her face into my neck.

"My head won't shut down, believe me, I've been trying," I say, pulling her closer. She hums against my neck, breath tickling my skin.

"I have a really good cure for that," she murmurs lazily into my ear. Her hand finds the bottom of my old T-shirt and slips under it, movements slow and deliberate, while her mouth comes to rest on a point just behind my ear that she knows is extremely sensitive. "Do you need a distraction, Calliope?" she breathes, as she runs her tongue slowly over that spot, stopping to suck gently on the sensitive skin.

"Depends on what kind of distraction you're offering," I respond breathily. I wonder if I'll ever get used to the electricity she incites with the simplest of touches. She slides her hand up my tummy, tickling it softly for a moment before moving higher. Her knowing fingers circle against my already hardening nipples before she palms a breast.

"Does this make it clear?" she asks, lifting her head off my shoulder.

"Not completely…are you offering me hors d'oevres and cocktails or a five course meal with dessert?"

She chuckles, bringing her hand back to the hem of my shirt, tugging it up and off. "When have I ever limited myself to cocktails, Calliope? And you know how much I like dessert." With that, she sits up, her fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts, and she pulls them down my legs along with my panties. Then she sits there for a minute with a strangely intent expression on her face, like she's never seen me naked before, or as if she were committing me to memory.

"Are you planning on getting that main course going _tonight_?" I remind her, reaching up and pulling her down on top of me. "Or are you going to sit around looking at me?" I grab the bottom of her borrowed tank top and pull it up over her head. She sits back, straddling me, arching her back so that her breasts are raised, the pink areolas crinkling as the cool air hits them. I fill my palms with the weight of those perfect breasts, leaning up to run my tongue over the hardened nipples before drawing each one into my mouth, enjoying the sound of her hiss as I graze them with my teeth. I'm almost too distracted to get rid of the last item of clothing between us, but tugging on her pants, I signal that she should get out of them—which she does in a hurry. She settles back down on me, fitting perfectly in the cradle of my hips as if we've been lovers all our lives. I marvel again at how much I love the sensation of her bare skin against mine. There's absolutely nothing else in the world like it—nothing more sensuous than her soft curves, her silky skin under my hands, the evidence of her arousal on my thigh, the warmth and weight of her body resting on mine. Sex with Arizona is not just sex anymore. It's like giving her part of my soul.

I think my thoughts must be reflected in my face, because she kisses me, and there's something so ardent, and at the same time so tender in the gesture, as if by the very act of kissing me she's telling me that my feelings are reciprocated. When she slides her hand down my body, I'm more than ready for her. She groans into my mouth when her fingers find the slick wetness between my legs, and I can't suppress my moans when she pushes inside me, can't control the way my hips move every time she thrusts into me, or the string of nonsense that comes out of my mouth when she uses her hip and thigh against the hand driving into me.

"Sshhh, Calliope," she whispers in my ear, "you've got to be quiet." I turn my face into my arm to muffle my moans, but when she curls her fingers up against my G-spot, the only thing that stops me from waking the whole house is her mouth on mine. I'm like a band stretched too tight, and she can sense it. Normally, she likes to take her time when we're together, often keeping me on the edge of orgasm for what feels like hours when she's in the mood. The release, when it comes, is so intense that it is worth the agonizing wait. Tonight—or this morning—however, she brings me to a shattering climax in minutes, and holds me tight against her as I stifle my moans in her shoulder.

When I finally gather enough energy to open my eyes, she's looking down at me with that wonderful, sweet expression she sometimes gets when she thinks I'm not looking. She doesn't bother to hide it now, though, smiling down at me as if she is holding all the world's treasure in her arms. It's an indescribable feeling, seeing her look at me like that. When I pull her down against me, feeling every inch off her pressed to me, feeling her lips seeking my own, hearing the soft endearments whispered in my ear, I know without a shadow of a doubt that she loves me—with the same searing, all-encompassing, heart-stopping love that I feel for her.

xxx XXX xxx

Arizona kisses me at my front door before she leaves. She offers to stay with me, but this is a conversation I need to have with my father alone. I'm touched by her supportiveness, however, and her willingness to stay with me despite the tearful wreck she was the last time she had words with my father.

"If you need me, Calliope, just call me, ok?" she says hugging me tight. "Tell Allegra I'll see her later—oh, and give her some Pedialyte if she's still vomiting, and don't let her—"

"Just listen to you. You sound like you're leaving her with a baby-sitter." I find it utterly sweet though, that she's so concerned about my daughter, and the way she took over most of the duties of looking after her last night.

"Sorry! I'll see you tonight, Calliope." With that, she hugs me once more, and stealing a fleeting kiss, leaves.

I head upstairs to check on Allegra, and spend the next hour or so coaxing her to eat some toast, which she does most unwillingly. She makes a peevish fuss when I sponge her down, but feels very much better afterwards, even inquiring where 'Zona' was. Arizona's influence on her has grown so much over the last few weeks. I guess I might even feel a little jealous of how my kids adore her if I didn't love her so much myself. It's hard not to fall under her spell.

Daddy is nothing if not punctual. At ten o clock precisely, my doorbell rings, and with butterflies playing havoc in my tummy, I head downstairs to let him in, Allegra on my hip.

"Abuelo!" Allegra looks thrilled to see him, as well she might, because he is an extremely fond and indulgent grandparent. He sincerely dotes on my babies. She holds her arms out to him, and he is only too willing to take her from me, all smiles for his granddaughter.

"How's my girl?" he asks her, "look how big you've got!"

"I'm sick, Abuelo. Zona says I've got a bug in my tummy. It made me vomit, and vomit, and…"

"Ok, honey," I cut in before she can get any more graphic, "I think he understands."

"Hello, Calliope," he says stiffly, looking at me rather sadly. The difference between the tone he uses for me, and the one he uses for my daughter is marked. It makes me sad too.

"Hi Daddy," I say, but make no move to hug him. I stand away from the door, giving him room to come in. He walks in, Allegra giving him a detailed account of how many times she threw up, and how bad she felt. Daddy is all concern, tut-tutting in sympathy and promising her all sorts of goodies when she gets better.

"Zona said she's going to take me to the Woodland Park Zoo when I get better. You can come too, it's not only for children!"

"Zona?" my father looks a question at me.

"She means Arizona," I tell him, noting the way his mouth tightens in disapproval. It does not bode well for the conversation that is to follow.

"Allegra, mommy has to talk to Abuelo now, would you like to watch the movie Arizona gave you for a little while? Or shall I take you upstairs for a nap?"

"No nap, mommy! I want to watch Nemo! Can we have pop-corn?"

"No, hon. Remember your bad tummy? It's going to feel a lot worse if you have pop-corn. You can have a cracker, if you like, or a freezer-pop?" She agrees to a freezer-pop, and settles down on the living-room sofa with her current favorite movie. Since Arizona gave her Finding Nemo a few weeks ago, Allegra has all but memorized the dialogue, and she and Arizona have long conversations in "whale" when they don't want me to understand.

Having settled Allegra, I turn to my father, who's been watching the proceedings patiently. "Would you like some coffee?" I offer, leading the way to my pantry when he agrees. He sits down at the table, and there's an awkward silence between us. Eventually, I decide to take the plunge.

"You wanted to talk to me, daddy?"

He clears his throat. "I wasn't happy with the way we left things the last time I saw you. Calliope, you are family, that means everything to me. We used to talk, Calliope, about everything, anything. I miss that. We miss you. Can we not talk about this reasonably?"

I can feel myself get teary eyed when he speaks. Of course I miss him, the great lug. He was the most important person in my life, growing up. My constant, even through my marriage with Owen. He still means the world to me. But there's someone in my life now who truly means _everything_ to me, someone who occupies a place in my heart that has never been filled by anyone else, not even Owen. I'm not giving that up for anything.

"I understand that it must have been a shock to you, and I'm sorry. I realize you need time to adjust. But, having said that, I think you've had some time now, to get used to the idea. Unless you are willing to accept Arizona as part of my life, I don't know what we have to talk about."

"Calliope, you are clearly not yourself. Owen's…problems, your divorce, these are matters that should not be taken lightly, they have been weighing on you, and that has caused you to seek solace where in ordinary circumstances, you would not."

"Daddy, please try to understand," I plead. "I'm not acting out. I'm not traumatized. Please try to look beyond the _gender_ of the person I'm with—you'll see what a beautiful human being she is!"

He drums his fingers on the table impatiently. "And Owen was not? Didn't you love Owen, Calliope? Did you not vow to love, honor and obey him? These are _promises_ you made! You can't break them for the first pretty face that crosses your path. And on top of it all, you are exposing your children to an aberrant way of life! Your daughter speaks of this woman as if she was already a parent!"

I can't believe he's going down this path again, when we beat it to death the last time he was here. "Of course I love Owen, Daddy. But we both agreed that our relationship was not meant to last. After his tour in Iraq, we became like strangers who happened to live in the same house and share three children. Is that what you want for me? Owen loves his kids, but he does not love _me_, daddy. And I don't love him, not anymore. Don't you think your grandchildren should grow up in an environment where the adults in their lives actually love one another? The kids adore Arizona, and she's nothing but good to them, good _for_ them."

"But a _woman_, Calliope? I cannot understand! I don't know what I did, or where I went wrong with you!" He looks truly pained as he asks this question. Like he feels he is to blame.

"Where you went wrong? There's nothing _wrong_ with me. There's nothing wrong with loving someone. You would have done something wrong if I was incapable of feeling love. You would have done something wrong if I couldn't bring myself to admit my attraction to a woman. You would have done something wrong if the values you instilled in me encouraged me to give up love, for money. But you didn't do anything wrong, daddy. You did everything right. Can't you see that?" I can't control the tears that fill my eyes and flow down my cheeks. He is normally such a good person. How can he be so blind?

"I must have done something wrong, Calliope, or you would not be sleeping with a woman. It's an abomination, Calliope, an eternity in hell!" He's getting more and more agitated, and digs about inside his jacket, bringing out a notebook.

"My love for Arizona is not an abomination. I'm not just sleeping with her, like it's an experiment or some kind of entertainment. I _love_ her. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I mean as much to someone else as they mean to me. She makes me happy. Doesn't that mean something to you?"

He opens his note book, flipping through the pages. "Calliope, Arizona Robbins may be a very good person. I'm not denying that. She seems a pleasant enough, and is obviously an extremely talented surgeon. But you cannot ask me to accept her as your partner. I cannot in good conscience allow you to damn your soul in this way. Just listen to me—" and he starts to read from his note book.

"Leviticus: Thou shalt not lie with a man as thou—"

"Don't quote the bible at me, daddy!"

"The outcry of Sodom and Gomorrah is indeed great, and their sin is exceedingly grave—"

"Stop! Don't do this!" I feel like I might explode. It seems I can't get through to him at all.

"Calliope, I'm your father. I'm supposed to look out for you. To protect you, even from yourself."

"I don't need your protection, daddy. I'm not some freak of nature. I'm not the result of a fault in your upbringing. I'm your _daughter_. I'm still a good person—I still uphold the values I was taught, I live by principles just as strong as those of any religious person. I do no harm."

At this point, I sit down at the table and put my head in my hands. I don't have the energy to fight, to defend myself anymore. I'm not going to talk about it for another minute. I know I'll have to resign myself to never seeing my family again.

"Calliope—"

"Please, just leave. If you can't accept me for who I am, then we don't have anything else to discuss. I'm not going to stop seeing her." I don't bother getting up from the table when he does. With a sigh, and sad shake of the head, he pushes his chair back, and heads out. When I hear the front door close, I put my head back in my hands and give way to my tears.

**ARIZONA**

The things you do for love. As I sit at the bar at the Archfield, wishing my glass of white wine was a double scotch, I think about the Arizona Robbins I used to know and wonder whatever happened to her. Where did she go, the woman who reveled in casual flings and chance encounters, who never got attached, who loved her single life, had no obligations and encumbrances beyond the demands of her job? The one whose world began and ended with herself? The truth is, she didn't know what she was missing.

I realize that now, and that is why I'm here, pickling in my nervous dread and waiting for Callie's father. I'm not going to let him go back to Miami without a fight for Calliope's happiness, and her happiness is so intricately intertwined with my own.

He left her crying. When she called me, she was incoherent, ranting about Leviticus and Gomorrah and goodness knows what else. I went back to her place to find a tearful Calliope trying to clean up an equally tearful Allegra who had just chucked up the crackers she had eaten. It took all my patience and ingenuity to calm both my girls down, soothe ruffled tempers, put one of them to bed, and coax the other to speak to me in English. All in all, a morning filled with drama. So why not the evening too? In for a penny, in for a pound.

I knew Carlos Torres was staying at the Archfield—Callie told me so last night. So I called his room and asked him to meet me, and to my surprise he actually agreed. Of course, I haven't told Callie I'm meeting him. She thinks I've been called into the hospital for an emergency.

I'm lost in my thoughts, contemplating the contents of my glass intently, when someone clears his throat pointedly behind me. I turn around to face my nemesis.

Carlos Torres looks sad. The domineering spirit I remember from his last visit seems to have deserted him, and he just looks like a dejected old man. A very nattily dressed one.

"Dr. Robbins," he says, on seeing me turn around. "What can I do for you?"

I guess it's now or never. "Mr. Torres." My voice comes out surprisingly steady. "I know I'm not your favorite person, but I just want to talk to you. Please."

He takes a seat beside me at the bar. "I don't know you well enough to talk about Calliope. We're not going to do that." Having laid down the law, he orders a Scotch and looks at me challengingly.

"I understand. I'm not about to preach to you about your daughter, whom you know well enough. But maybe you should know some things about me."

He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing.

"Most people think I was named for the state, but I'm not. I was named after a battleship." His eyebrows are moving again, and from their ironic lift, I figure he's telling me that maybe I'm aptly named. Now I see where Calliope gets her talented eyebrows. I go on, regardless.

"My grandfather was serving on the U.S.S. Arizona when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. He saved nineteen men before he drowned. My father has honored that sacrifice his whole life. People sometimes ask me why I never changed my name, but I've always been proud of it. It stands for what I believe in. What my family believes in."

He's still listening, his face expressionless. I take a large gulp of my drink, and continue.

"Mr. Torres, my father believes in country, and duty, and honor the way you believe in God. He is the most formidable man I know. And he is unswerving in his convictions, just as you are. When I told him I was gay, he said he had only one question for me."

I've caught his attention now. He even looks interested in what I'm saying. "Well?" he asks, as if speaking against his will. "What was it?"

"I was prepared for, 'how fast can you get the hell out of my house?'… but instead, he asked, "Are you still who I raised you to be?"

Calliope's father looks at me, a crease between his brows. He doesn't know where I'm going with all this.

"I was brought up to value family, and duty, and honor. To be strong in adversity, to be true to what I believe in, to protect the things, the _people_ I love…to be a good man in a storm. Mr. Torres, my father is not a man who bends easily, but he bent for _me_, because I am his daughter. I'm still the same person he raised me to be. I'm a _good_ man in a storm."

Carlos Torres might be sculpted in stone, he sits so still. But at least he's still listening, so I go on.

"I love your daughter. And I protect the things I love. I know she doesn't need my protection—she's strong, and fearless, and honorable. She's the woman you raised her to be—she's still the daughter you brought up."

I finally run out of steam. I can't think of anything else to tell him that might sway him. But, like I said, I protect the people I love, and I don't want to see Calliope shed any more tears over this, so I had to try, at least.

"That's all I wanted to say, Mr. Torres. Your daughter is an extraordinary human being. The best person I know. The best thing that's ever happened to me. I'll go now. I'm sorry if I've made you angry or upset, but I wanted to try, for Calliope's sake." I get off the bar stool as I speak, putting my empty wine glass down on the counter. He looks conflicted, confused, a little annoyed. I turn to go before there's an outburst.

"Wait. Dr. Robbins. Stay a moment." I turn once more to face him. "Sit down. Have another drink."

xxx XXX xxx

**The next day**

"Allegra! I said no pancakes!" Calliope's tone is exasperated, and Allegra's tears, all too frequent over the last two days, spill down her cheeks again.

Calliope makes a hissing sound like a wet thumb being placed on a hot stove. Allegra turns to me, wrapping her arms round my knees and clinging. Who knew a four-year old would be this much work? I stoop to pick her up, my irritation vanishing when she puts her arms around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder with little shuddering sobs.

"I can't believe I've suddenly become the bad cop in this scenario," Calliope says, annoyed, and looking a little hurt too.

"Calm down babe. You're just a little wound up today," I say, walking up to her and kissing her cheek.

"Well, wouldn't you be? If your family decided to forget you existed because you l - er, because you dated me?"

Calliope is understandably angry and upset after yesterday's meeting with her father. I haven't told her yet of my meeting with him, and I'm not sure if I ever will. After I said my bit last night, Mr. Torres invited me to have another drink, and though you could have knocked me down with a feather, I stayed, and we made awkward conversation for another 30 minutes. It was stilted and forced, but I think he was trying. He asked me about how I became interested in medicine, and Peds, and asked a lot of questions about where I went to school, and where I did my residency. Not once did we broach the subject of his daughter. When I left, he shook my hand, and said it had been nice talking to me. It's anyone's guess whether I made the situation better or worse for Calliope.

"Calliope, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I'm sorry you've had to go through all this crap because of me. I don't know what to do—"

"Don't you dare apologize for that. That's not your fault, it's theirs." She sounds fierce and angry, but she puts her arms around me and Allegra, and hugs tight."Mommy's sorry she snapped at you, baby girl. But you can't have pancakes, ok?" Calliope kisses her daughter's cheek, and then mine.

Our group hug is interrupted when the doorbell rings. We're not expecting Owen back with the twins till afternoon, and it's early for anyone to be paying a random visit. Nevertheless, I go to the door, Allegra still clinging to me like a limpet.

The open door reveals Carlos Torres, standing on the porch, looking a little uncertain. That must be a first for the man.

"Arizona," he says. It's the first time he's ever used my name. "Is Calliope home?"

"Abuelo?" Allegra raises her head from my shoulder. "I thought you went home yesterday?"

"No, mija, but I'm going home now, and I came to say goodbye."

Before I can respond, Calliope comes up behind me, drawn by the sound of voices.

"Arizona? Who is—" she stops when she sees her father. She takes a step closer to me, and puts a protective arm around my waist. Her voice is hard when she speaks again. "Daddy. What are you doing here?"

"Calliope. My flight leaves in 90 minutes. I couldn't go back without saying goodbye, mija. And that I'm sorry. I'm an old man, change is difficult for me. But if you are willing to forgive me, I'm going to try."

Calliope's smile, overjoyed and a little tearful, is totally worth the torment of last evening's drinks with Carlos Torres.


End file.
